The Moon May Draw the Sea
by lady scribe of avandell
Summary: We are a political match, a princess and a king. How can I marry someone I do not truly love? How does my father expect me to marry a man I barely know?
1. Prologue

A/N: i realize arranged marriages did not happen often in m.e., but it was required to make my story work. btw, all kinds of reviews are welcome...but if you want to flame me, please give substantial evidence as to why i "suck at writing." also, i am currently working on a companion to this story, and if anyone has suggestions, they can e-mail me at lonelystarr247@yahoo.com. thanks for reading. sere mi eru...lady scribe of avandell  
  
p.s. **disclaimer: i have no claim to tolkien's work. i don't even own the main character. only her personality. i also own mista, aphadon, and ara. that is all. goodbye.  
  
Prologue  
  
November, T. A. 3020  
  
Lothiriel looked out at the dreary skies. It was snowing. Again. She sighed and turned back to the warm glow of her Rivendell quarters. The halls of the Elves were always comforting even when the weather out-of-doors was at its worst. Lothiriel knew this well; she had been there for nearly twelve years.  
  
A knock came from the door. "Lady?" called the Elf as he entered the room.  
  
"Yes, Aphadon?"  
  
"A message arrived this morning for you. Lord Elrond asked me to deliver it to you. I believe it is from Dol Amroth." Lothiriel's heart leapt. A message had finally come! Perhaps she was to return to the sea at last.  
  
"I thank you, Aphadon," she said, taking the letter. Lothiriel opened the message bearing the crest of her father, Lord Imrahil. It read:  
  
14 November, T. A. 3019  
  
My dearest daughter,  
  
I have wonderful news! We have deemed it safe for your return home. The roads are still treacherous, but a good company of travelers is coming to Rivendell. Mista has found a stout group of well-trained people to accompany her.  
  
I also am very pleased to let you know that I have found you a husband. He is Eomer, King of the Mark. The wedding is set for Midsummer.  
  
Your mother and I await your return with great anticipation.  
  
Valar bless,  
  
Lord Imrahil  
  
Shaking, Lothiriel sat quickly.  
  
"Bad news, Lady?" asked Aphadon.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she answered, "My father has found me a husband, Eomer. We will be wed on Midsummer. Mista is coming to take me home." She turned and smiled at Aphadon. "I will be returning to the sea! Father says they shall be here in a few weeks. I only pray that good weather will be with them."  
  
"Would you have me tell Lord Elrond?"  
  
"Would you? Thank you, Aphadon." The messenger bowed and exited silently. 


	2. The Place Where No Darkness Falls

Chapter I  
  
December, T.A. 3019  
  
The snows halted nearly two weeks after Lothiriel received the letter from her father. She was in Queen Arwen's old room sewing new dresses with her friend Ara for the wintertide festival when Aphadon came to the door.  
  
"Lady Lothiriel? Lord Elrond would like to see you in the library. There are people with him, travelers, who say they are to take you to Dol Amroth."  
  
"Mista is here? Valar be praised!" She turned to the Elf who was still sewing a golden dress. "Ara, I'm going home!" Lothiriel stood and followed Aphadon to the library where he knocked on the door.  
  
"Come in," called Lord Elrond.  
  
As she entered the room, Lothiriel noticed a Man in strange garb standing with Mista and Lord Elrond. He was a handsome man, draped in a cloak with intricate designs of horses upon it, though Lothiriel could not place the device. His eyes were blue-grey and his hair long and blonde, but he was obviously not an Elf, for he was shorter of stature and stockier of build than the Eldar. "Lord Elrond," Lothiriel said, curtsying to both him and the stranger in one motion, "you requested my presence?"  
  
"Lady Lothiriel, I would like for you to meet Eomer, King of the Mark. He has traveled from Rohan with Mista."  
  
Lothiriel's heart dropped. This was the man she was being forced to marry. "My lady," the Man said, bowing as he took her hand, "it is a pleasure to finally meet you." He smiled kindly.  
  
"The pleasure is all mine," she replied stiffly, attempting to match his smile, but failing. She turned to Mista, who was standing by the window. "Mista, I am so glad you are here! It's been over a year, hasn't it? We have so much to talk about!" Lothiriel gave her friend an insistent look.  
  
Mista smiled. "Aye, we do. Sirs, if you will excuse us?" The Man and Elf bowed their heads, and the two friends exited the library.  
  
Outside, Lothiriel sighed. "Thank the Valar you were in there, Mista. I couldn't have gotten away from him if you hadn't been. Oh, Mista, I do not believe I can marry him. We are a political match, a princess and a king. How can I marry someone I do not truly love? How does my father expect me to marry a man I barely know? Half a year is not enough time, surely." The companions made their way out toward the gardens, talking while doing so.  
  
"Alta Eru, no. I know couples who grew up with each other and waited two or more years after their engagement before wedding! The king and queen knew each other for sixty-five years before their wedding last summer. Of course, they will live much longer than most people, so they are allowed to wait so long. But your father's wishes? They are insane! I am surprised that Éomer agreed to them, but it may be the custom of his people to have weddings on short notice. Goodness knows Eowyn and Faramir were married under such circumstances."  
  
Lothiriel gasped, for she had not realized Faramir was already married. "Y-you mean Faramir i-is married?"  
  
"What? Hadn't you heard? Faramir married Eomer's sister shortly after Lord Aragorn and Arwen were wed. Surely Lord Elrond told you?"  
  
"I had no knowledge of it, my friend," Lothiriel answered, sitting on a bench. "I wish I had been there for the wedding." Tears slowly welled up in her eyes and streamed down her face. "Is-is he happy with her?"  
  
"Yes, I believe that he is. You know the story don't you? Eowyn and Meriadoc Brandybuck killed the Witch King and were sent to the houses of healing."  
  
"Yes, I heard the tale. No one ever mentioned that Faramir fell in love with her, though I am not surprised he did....He always was the sort who would fall in love with a warrior. Maybe that is why we were not...." The woman drifted off into silence. She had never been as adventurous as Mista or Faramir when they were younger. She had grown more so these last twelve years with the Elves. There was little else to do in Imladris; Lothiriel had the choice of embroidery or archery. She usually chose the latter. Embroidery was boring, and Arwen had disliked it as much Lothiriel had.  
  
Mista looked at her with consternation. "Now stop that talk. You know full well that your father and Denethor would never have agreed to your marriage! They never agreed about anything after the death of Lady Finduilas. And besides, Eomer is a decent enough man. I have traveled with him for a long time, you know." 


	3. Chasing the Deer

A/N: thankies to all of my wonderful reviewers (even if you haven't reviewed this particular version). i had to delete the original due to some technical difficulty, but hopefully it's all worked out now. don't forget: reviews make me happy, which makes me write more!  
  
**disclaimer** i have no claim to tolkien's work. i don't even own the main character. only her personality. but you knew that already. now, enjoy the story!  
  
Chapter II  
  
December, T.A. 3020  
  
Lothiriel spent several days wandering through the woods hunting and thinking of ways to elude her pending marriage (and her fiance). The snow had melted in the valley, but not so in the mountain passes. Lothiriel sighed. It would be weeks before they could leave for Dol Amroth! In the meantime, she would merely avoid Eomer. It was easy enough: she knew the valley well, he did not, and besides, it was cold outside. No guest in their right mind would give up the Last Homely House for the woods beyond.  
  
Not quite two weeks after Eomer arrived, Lothiriel was following a faint deer path. She had no plans of catching anything, but she still had her bow notched and her dagger ready. Her feet crunched through the snow noisily, which was precisely the reason why she didn't hear the person following her. A rabbit sped across the trail. She launched her arrow and missed the hare by a foot or more.  
  
"I don't know what my people will say if I return with a bride who is that noisy when hunting."  
  
Lothiriel whirled, a second arrow nocked. It was Eomer. "How do you know I'm always that noisy? It might be practice for speed."  
  
"I do not think so."  
  
"Does it matter what you think?"  
  
"I should hope that the woman I am to marry would care something for my thoughts."  
  
"And if she doesn't?" Lothiriel asked coldly.  
  
Eomer replied, his voice matching the iciness of her own. "Then perhaps she needs to be taught to respect her betters." He stepped closer to her.  
  
"You wouldn't dare," she said, taking a step backward.  
  
"Oh, wouldn't I?" Eomer advanced, his breath coming out in icy huffs.  
  
Lothiriel turned and fled, running up the path. She had to escape this monster. He was a horrid man! What did her father see in him? He had no manners, and obviously lacked the respect that should be given to a woman. He was a brute, and Lothiriel knew that she would never be safe from him after the wedding. She had to escape now, and fast. It would be a simple matter to gather her belongings and make her way to--to where? Where could she hide from the man she was to marry? There would be no comfort in Dol Amroth; her father would keep her there until Eomer came. The same with Minas Tirith: the king, and even Faramir, would force her into the marriage alliance no matter what her thoughts on the subject were. So where would she go? The only other options were Bree, Laketown, or another Elf haven. Lothiriel knew it was too far to Laketown, and the Elves would have no trouble tracking her if she went to the Grey Havens or Mirkwood. Her last choice was Bree. It was not the nicest place, she knew, but it was better than anything else. That decided, Lothiriel made her way back to her rooms to pack. It would be a hard journey, and she would need to be prepared.  
  
**************  
  
Eomer watched the girl retreat further into the woods. He hadn't meant to lose control of his temper, it just kind of happened sometimes. He sighed. It was obvious their marriage would never work. He wondered why he had even considered falling in love. Ever.  
  
Life had not been easy after the War. It was a year later, and he still had not become used to the emptiness of the halls of Meduseld. They seemed cold and lifeless now that Eowyn was gone. She was not really gone, he knew, but it was hard to remember that she really had survived the War when she wasn't there to remind him each day. He sighed. Eomer had hoped that this girl, Lothiriel, would become his closest companion while they waited for the snows to melt. So far, the most contact they'd had consisted of the heated argument just moments before. It was his fault, he knew. He shouldn't have snuck up on her. But it was so easy! She just stomped through the snow, not paying any attention to anything outside of her sphere. She deserved to be startled. Yet, the frightened look she had given him kept playing through Eomer's mind.  
  
He laughed bitterly at himself, standing in the snowy wood. He often scared people away. Eomer wasn't exactly the kind of person someone would want to get to know. His temper was often foul, as was his mouth. No wonder the girl would have nothing to do with him. It was too bad, for she was beautiful. Not as beautiful as the Lady Arwen, granted, but compared to anyone else, she was radiant. He would have followed her to the ends of the earth if she would permit him to do so after his outburst.  
  
The bells rang announcing the supper hour. Eomer followed his tracks back down to the House. He would apologize that night, he decided. He owed Lothiriel that much at least. 


	4. Merende en Sinya Coranar

A/N: thankies for the wonderful reviews! some of you may know that i already have chapters 8-11 written for the most part. now remember, reviews make me happy, which makes me write faster (and better). which means that chapters 4-7 will be written faster. and that means that the chapters i've already written will be out quickly, too. which means the story will be finished faster, and then i can crank out my next one (it's also got our favorite king of rohan, a certain shieldmaiden, and a couple new oc's)!  
  
**disclaimer** i don't own the main characters. i only own their personalities. none of the characters are my invention except mista, benn, ara, and aphadon. enjoy the story!  
  
Chapter III  
  
December, T.A. 3020  
  
Lothiriel swiftly packed her belongings into a knapsack. If she left immediately, it would be morning before she was missed. The bells chimed for dinner. Lothiriel swore. She had forgotten about the banquet in honor of Eomer. Someone knocked at the door. "Who is it?"  
  
"It's Ara and Mista. Are you coming?" Ara, Lothiriel's only close Elven friend, spoke, her voice soft and clear, edged with laughter. Lothiriel pushed her pack under the bed, whirling around as the other two entered. They were both in dresses. Ara's was a deep red which off-set her golden hair and blue eyes. Mista wore a dress in a similar style, though her's was a soft sea-green accented with pearl beading. "Why, Lothiriel!" cried Ara, "you aren't even dressed!" The princess was still wearing her leather hunting garments.  
  
She shrugged. "I was out hunting and completely forgot about the banquet tonight."  
  
"Now that won't do, Lothiriel," Mista said. "If I have to wear this fancy get-up--" she gestured to her dress, "--then so do you. Come now, let's find you something decent to wear in the presence of a king."  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Lothiriel exited her room in a blue dress. The sleeves fanned out and had slits from the shoulder to the elbow and from the elbow to the wrist. It was accented with a belt and a fine necklace, both made of mithril. Ara had pulled Lothiriel's unruly dark hair back into a loose braid. She felt and looked radiant. The three women were greeted at the door of the great hall by three men: Aphadon, who took Ara's arm; Benn, a Ranger, who took Mista's arm; and Eomer.  
  
"My lady?" he said, taking Lothiriel's arm.  
  
"We have to sit together, don't we?" she asked stiffly.  
  
"Yes." He escorted her to a seat at the high table. He pulled a chair out for her. She immediately took the empty seat beside it.  
  
Lothiriel turned her chair just enough so that Eomer was almost out of sight. She looked at the other guest beside her. He was a wood-Elf judging by his clothes and dark hair. Before Lothiriel could speak to him, Elrond stood and announced, "Let the feast begin!" The doors to the kitchen were flung open, and Elves began to bring in trays of soup and bread and wine. They served the high table first. Eomer took two bowls of soup and a loaf of bread. He handed a bowl to Lothiriel.  
  
"Thank you," she said placidly. Eomer grunted in reply.  
  
The Elf beside Lothiriel turned. It was Legolas. "Lady Lothiriel," he whispered, "do you know how many Riders of Rohan it takes to light a fire?"  
  
"No. How many?"  
  
"An entire eored. One man to actually light the fire, and the rest to say they could do it faster." Legolas' eyes glittered in amusement at his own joke.  
  
"I could say the same of your people, Elf," muttered Eomer.  
  
"I thought it was a wonderful joke, and true, too. Your people are renowned for their competitiveness," Lothiriel said haughtily.  
  
"Hmph," grunted Eomer, and he took another sip of wine. The meal was not going as he had hoped, for Lothiriel spoke to him only to make biting remarks about himself and his people. He had hoped to redeem himself, but Lothiriel would give him no chance. Not that he blamed her. He had given her no reason to allow him such.  
  
*************  
  
The meal seemed to stretch on forever. Legolas chatted animatedly beside Lothiriel, but she only half- listened. She was impatient for the music to start so she could leave. At long last, the meal drew to a close, and the Elves brought out their instruments, tuning them softly. They began, as always, with songs of the Days of Gondolin and Doriath, from the golden days when Thingol and Melian ruled much of Arda. They then progressed to songs of the Dunedain, singing of the beauty of Numenor. Lothiriel swayed gently with the music, breathing deep the sounds of the old world.  
  
Eventually, the Elves began the songs of the Sea-Kings. Lothiriel stirred from her revery, and making her way out of the hall, she passed by Eomer. He moved to follow her, but Legolas stopped him, saying, "Let her go. The lady has never stayed for the songs of the sea. They are the one thing that has made her stay in Rivendell near unbearable." 


	5. She's Leaving Home, er, Rivendell

A/N: someone asked me why lothiriel was in rivendell. it's explained soon...sorry for the ambiguity. i would also like to say that elrond did not leave middle-earth until september 22, t.a. (third age) 3021. this is in the appendices. and even if he had left already, celeborn ruled in rivendell for several years before he passed into the west.  
  
c'est magnifique, this is NOT turning into a lothiriel/legolas shipper...that was my satirical muse taking over there (i despise most legoluv stories). and also, the only real description we have of our favorite elf is a line in lotr about a star upon his dark brow. i interepreted that to mean that he has dark hair. i would, however, like to thank you for your concern and your attention to detail!  
  
**disclaimer** i don't own any of tolkien's creations (although i wouldn't mind having eomer...uh, did i say that out loud?). i only own the personalities i've given them. and mista. enjoy the story!  
  
Chapter IV  
  
December T.A. 3020-January, T.A. 3021  
  
Lothiriel returned to her room as quickly as she could. No one had followed her from teh Great Hall, to her great relief. She undressed and pulled her travelling clothes back out of her hamper. She pulled on the pants and tunic and added an extra layer for warmth. Outside, snow was falling again. Lothiriel smiled. It would cover her tracks.  
  
Bending down, she grabbed her knapsack from beneath her bed. Her bow was slung across it along with a quiver of arrows. She tucked her hunting knife into her belt, put on her cloak, and snuck into the hallway. No one was about; they were probably still listening to the music. Lothiriel tip- toed out to the quiet gardens that led to the stables.  
  
She reached the stables without incident. There was no one present (still in the Hall getting drunk, most likely). All of the horses were sleeping calmly, save one. Lothiriel moved like a shadow toward the stall. She knew at once whose horse it was: Eomer's. A war-horse, strong and sturdy. The animal was big, maybe twenty hands high. Big, and nervous. He reared slightly. Lothiriel sighed. She would have to calm him somehow--if she could get near him. The stallion rolled his eyes, pawing the ground as if he were daring her to step closer. And she did. Lothiriel grabbed the bridle(?) and steadied the horse. She soothed him, crooning softly in Elvish as she had seen the stablehands do on many occasions. Suddenly, an idea came to her. If she could control the horse, why not ride him? He was far faster than any of Lord Elrond's horses, and the hands would assume that the Rohirric lord had gone for a ride. It was perfect!  
  
Lothiriel smiled at her plan and saddled the horse. She led him out of the stable into the cold midnight. They walked to the edge of the valley where Lothiriel mounted the great beast. She immediately sent him into a gallop through the pass, the snow falling about them. She took a last fleeting glance at the house, the first rays of the sun giving it a rosy glow, and was gone.  
  
************  
  
It was midday when Eomer awoke at last. His head was throbbing from the wine the night before. He shut his eyes tightly, wishing the headache would go away. There was a knock at the door, each sharp rap echoing in his head. "What is it?" he grumbled, opening the door to reveal a nervous- looking Aphadon.  
  
"She's gone, milord! I can't find her anywhere!"  
  
Eomer blinked at the Elf for a moment. "Who's gone?"  
  
"Loth--er, Lady Lothiriel, milord! And your horse, too!" At this, Eomer's mind began to move into gear.  
  
"WHAT??? Firefoot? What do you mean, 'gone'?" he shouted, not noticing the constant throb in his temples.  
  
The Elf shook slightly. "I mean what I say, sire. I went to awaken Lady Lothiriel for the noon meal and found her gone. Her hunting garments and weapons were gone as well. This did not phase me, as she did not stay for all of the festivities last night, but then Ara told me that your horse had been missing along with his tack and gear. I just put two and two together, and she must have taken him during the night."  
  
Eomer swore. "Can you not track them? Why didn't anyone wake me before?"  
  
"The stablehands thought that you had gone for a morning ride. It wasn't until we realized that Lothiriel was gone that we realized what had happened. And nay, milord, fresh snow has fallen since last night, any hopes we had of tracking them are dashed."  
  
"What do we do, then?" asked Eomer.  
  
"Lord Elrond has sent messages to Mirkwood and the Havens and even to some rangers outside of Bree to watch for a young lady riding a war-horse. They will alert us if any news is heard of either horse or maid." The Elf looked at the king compassionately. "Do not worry, milord, we will find her for you."  
  
"It is not the maid I care about," he muttered as Aphadon shut the door behind him. 


	6. Rhavan Thalion

Chapter V  
  
January, T.A. 3021  
  
Lothiriel had made it safely to Bree. It had taken her nearly a week to do so, and she was amazed that no one had found her yet. Not that she minded; her new-found freedom was a relief after six years of living among the Elves and Dunedain who inhabited Rivendell. She sighed. Had it really been that long since her father had sent her north?  
  
As she entered the town, Lothiriel slid off the horse. The first thing she needed to do was find a place to stay for the evening. She led the horse through the town to a tavern named the Prancing Pony. Lothiriel recognized the name from somewhere, though she could not place the name. She took the horse around to the stables located in the back, where she handed the horse off to a stableboy. The boy stared wide-eyed at the duo, and Lothiriel was unsure whether he was more surprised by a lone female rider or the horse she had brought. She grinned wryly as she stepped inside the inn.  
  
Inside, the place was chaos. There were the locals, a strange mix of Hobbits and Men, and then there were a few others who were obviously from other parts of Middle Earth. Lothiriel noted that several of them were watching her slyly, so she made a point of avoiding eye contact with any of them. She sat at the bar, where she was waited upon by a hulking man: the owner. "Whaddya want, miss?" he asked, setting an empty mug in front of her.  
  
"Your finest ale and a bowl of stew with bread, if you please. I've travelled long and hard these past days and am in need of some good food." The man nodded and went off to fetch her food. He came back and placed it in front of Lothiriel. She ate the stew hungrily, finishing quickly.  
  
Lothiriel turned around on her stool, surveying the crowd. There was now only one man watching her. He made her slightly uneasy, but then he stood and she lost him in the mob of faces. "Lady?" asked a voice beside her. She started and turned. It was the man she had been watching. "I am sorry if I frightened you, miss. I was just wondering what would bring a pretty young lass into a place like this."  
  
"Oh. I...I am looking for work as a barmaid or some such profession, so I stopped in to see what the place was like," she stammered at the man, who was, she realized, rather handsome up close. "I had heard about the Pony from a friend once, so I decided I might as well visit it."  
  
The man nodded. "Barliman could use some help, I daresay. He often forgets things, like that time when he had a message for the Ringbearer and he almost didn't give it to him. Coulda been disastrous, if Strider hadn't been around."  
  
Lothiriel started again. She remembered the tavern now. It was the place where the four Hobbits had first met Aragorn when they set out from the Shire. "I heard that tale somewhere in my travels."  
  
"Where have you been, lady, that you would hear such tales of the War? For you do not look like one who has seen the horrors of such." The man looked at her with a new interest.  
  
"I traveled all over in the past. I haven't done so much travelling recently, but I decided it was high time I went somewhere again." It was true enough, she mused. Before she left home, she went everywhere with her brothers and cousins and their friends. After that, she had made the journey from Dol Amroth to Rivendell when she was sixteen, and hadn't gone outside of the valley since.  
  
"What did you say your name was, miss?" The man shook Lothiriel from her reminiscing.  
  
She smiled. "I didn't, but you can call me Alquayendi."  
  
"An Elvish name!" the man exclaimed. "Swan-daughter, am I correct?"  
  
"Yes. My father gave me that name." The man was beginning to make her nervous with all of his questions.  
  
"I am called Rhavan, or Wild-Man, by the people of Bree. Elsewhere I am known as Thalion." He looked at her closely. "I want you to call me Thalion. It is a more noble name than Rhavan." Thalion stood and made his way to the stairs that led to the rooms.  
  
The owner knelt over the bar. "His kind aren't trust-worthy, miss. I'd stay away from him if I were you," he whispered. Lothiriel turned and nodded.  
  
"Do not worry, kind sir. I expect he shall not remember me in the morning. In the meantime, might I have a room for the night? And I was wondering if I could pay with my services as a washer or barmaid. I am afraid I do not have much in the way of coin."  
  
"Certainly, miss. I'll have one of the lads wake you in the morning. He'll show you 'round the place, and you can start work tomorrow. By the way, I'm Barliman. What might your name be?" He looked at her expectantly.  
  
"Alquayendi."  
  
"Alquayendi," he repeated. "Odd name. Anyway, I'll have Nob show you your room. Hey lad!" He gave directions to Nob, who then led Lothiriel--Alquayendi--to her room. A window faced the west. The sun was setting, so she prepared herself to sleep.  
  
************  
  
In a room on the other side of the hallway was another traveler. He had just finished writing a message to a close friend. He opened his window, which faced the east. A dove was perched on the sill despite the cold. He tied the message to its foot, whispered directions, and sent it on its way. The bird flew east, toward a hidden valley nestled in the Misty Mountains. 


	7. The Seagull Still Follows on Freedom

A/N: thankies for the wonderful reviews! i'm really glad you guys all seem to like the story. btw, yes, the whole reason i made her take THE horse is b/c eomer likely would have ignored her running off otherwise (they didn't get off to a good start).  
  
**disclaimer** i don't own any of this except thalion, mista, and everyone else's personalities. and yes, i forgot to say that in the last chapter, so please don't sue me!  
  
Chapter VI  
  
January, T.A. 3021  
  
Lothiriel was enjoying her new profession as a barmaid. She wasn't officially paid, but many of the customers gave her rather large tips (being a woman has its advantages). She saved as much of it as possible, unsure of when she might have to leave the town. If any news reached her of Elves or Men looking for her, she would have more than enough money to buy a new horse and escape. For now, though, she was content to wake up late every morning and wait on customers until well into the night.  
  
The only damper on her spirits was Rhavan Thalion. He was still hanging around the inn, almost as if he was waiting for something...or someone. He was usually sitting at a table or the bar with other "shady" characters that Barliman disliked. Lothiriel often caught them watching her. They unnerved her a little, but seemed tame enough, so she didn't say anything to Barliman.  
  
"Alquayendi, could you serve the men in the corner?" Nob's voice shook her out of her reverie.  
  
"The ones by the fire?" she asked. He nodded, and she sauntered over to the table. It was Thalion and his two companions. They were speaking in low voices in a language she didn't understand. "Can I get anything for you three?" Alquayendi (winkwink) inquired, interrupting their conversation.  
  
They looked at her. "Ale and stew for all three, Miss," said one. She nodded and returned to the bar.  
  
************  
  
The three rangers were getting impatient. What could be taking the others so long? It had been nearly three weeks since Thalion had sent the message. The only excuse was the weather, but it had been fair for much of the time. Ah well. It did not matter much *when* they arrived, only that they did so before the princess got word of their plan.  
  
"Do you think he'll be able to convince her to leave?" one of Thalion's companions asked the ranger in a rough language that few among the townspeople of Bree were bound to know.  
  
Thalion looked over at the girl. Her back was to him, so she did not notice his gaze. Her hair was beautiful, dark curls that reached halfway down her slender back. He smiled softly. It was too bad she was claimed already. If only his liege had not asked him to watch for her...he would have bedded her in an instant. But no, she was a princess, and he could not give way to his own desires. He sighed and turned back to his friends.  
  
"He will have to be stealthy," Thalion whispered in the same rough tongue. "She will not leave willingly."  
  
Alquayendi returned as he spoke this last bit. She carried a heavily-laden tray of stew and ale and bread. "Here y'are, lads. Three stews, three ales, and a loaf of bread on the house." She winked at them, smiling, and whispered conspiratorially. "Barliman will never know." They watched her go as she waltzed back toward the bar, whistling along with the hobbits singing at the next table.  
  
"Not willingly at all," repeated Thalion.  
  
************  
  
Far away in the valley hidden in the mountains, the others were preparing to leave. The snows that had fallen had stopped all travel in and out of the valley for nearly a week. The pass was clear at last, and the riders were impatient to get to Bree. There was far too much at stake to wait much longer: no one knew how long the princess would stay in the town. She could leave any day, and all hope of finding her would be lost. And that was a dangerous possibility.  
  
************  
  
A/N (again): hmmm...and the thot plickens!!! ooh, yes, i am terrible, adding a love interest to the mix. poor thalion, i feel rather sorry for him. he hardly knows lothiriel, and he's fallen for her. but, alas, it could never be, for lothiriel's love is saved for one man you have yet to meet.......... 


	8. Do We Have an Accord?

A/N: several of you have asked me what i meant by "lothiriel's love is saved for a man you have yet to meet......" and you would be correct in surmising that it is not our king of rohan. be patient, my readers, for all shall be revealed in due time......  
  
btw, lionel joseph: how's this for a longer chapter?  
  
**disclaimer** i don't own any of tolkien's stuff. unless you count my posters, and my two editions of lotr, the hobbit, unfinished tales, the tolkien reader, and uh, yeah, you get the point........meanwhile, enjoy the story!  
  
Chapter VII  
  
February, T.A. 3021  
  
It was a semi-quiet day in the tavern (for once). Alquayendi was in the kitchen eating a late lunch when the riders arrived. They first went the stables, making sure that the king's horse was still there. The three riders walked into the tavern, sitting at a sheltered table, waiting.  
  
"Oy, Alquayendi! There's a coopla guests at a table in the corner. Can ye get the order from them?" Nob stuck his head in the door to the kitchen.  
  
Alquayendi nodded, hastily wiping her face on a napkin. She stepped into the main room and glanced around. "Nob, I don't see--" She stopped short as a man stepped out of the shadows. Her eyes went wide. "What are you doing here?" she exclaimed.  
  
"I might ask you the same, my princess." The man bowed deeply, his blonde hair falling over his broad shoulders.  
  
Lothiriel glared at the king of Rohan. "I won't leave with you."  
  
Eomer straightened. "Oh? That's too bad; I already sent Nob to fetch your things." He smiled at her.  
  
"Well then Nob will just have to return my belongings to my room because I am not leaving the inn, let alone the town. And besides, you have no right to take me away."  
  
"No right?" he laughed at her. "You run away from Rivendell without so much as a by-your-leave, and you tell me I have no right? You are much mistaken, madam, for I have every right in the world. You and I are betrothed, and, for now, you are in my custody, by order of your father. And if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get on the road." He turned to go, expecting her to follow. When she did not, he spun around, walked back, and put his arms around her waist. "Come along, princess," he said, and picking her up, he carried her out the door to the stables.  
  
"LET ME GO THIS INSTANT YOU CAD! I MEAN IT! I swear, I'll tell my father I want out of this arrangement! HE'LL NEVER LET YOU MARRY ME NOW! PUT ME DOWN!" Lothiriel's shouts of outrage echoed down the street as Eomer threw her over Firefoot's saddle. He signaled to the other riders to follow, and the company left the villagers of Bree wondering what in the world could have compelled dear Alquayendi the barmaid to make such a fuss over marrying a handsome lord like that.  
  
************  
  
It was the fifth night since Bree. Lothiriel was still not speaking to Eomer. She wandered around the camp, glaring at him every chance she had. He glared back. The others traveling with them (i.e., Mista, Benn, Thalion, and a couple Rohirrim) were rather perturbed by their lord and lady. The two managed to make everyone miserable. At long last, Mista became fed up with both of them and confronted Eomer.  
  
"Master Horse-lord, if you do not make your peace with Lothiriel, I will personally sell your horse to the next Dunlending I encounter. Is that understood?"  
  
Eomer scowled at her. "You wouldn't dare."  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh wouldn't I?" Mista stared straight into his eyes, her arms crossed, and waited. Finally he sighed and made his way over to where Lothiriel was looking despondently into the river.  
  
"Lady Lothiriel?" he said tentatively. She glanced at him, only to look back at the river.  
  
"Go to..." she muttered.  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"I said, 'Go to Mordor.'"  
  
"Oh." He sat beside her. "I was there once. It's not an experience I'd like to repeat."  
  
"Hmph."  
  
"Lothiriel, you must understand that I didn't *want* to drag you away from your new profession as a barmaid, but I am under oath from your father to return you to Dol Amroth. I would have left you there if it had been at all possible." She continued to ignore him. He tried a different approach. "Look, no matter how much you despise me, we are stuck in this marriage. It would be senseless not to at least make peace."  
  
"Easy for you to say. You were there. You could have backed out. I had no say in the matter. You did." She turned to give him an accusatory glance. "How much did he pay you?"  
  
Eomer gave her a funny look. "Who? Pay for what?"  
  
"My father." Lothiriel looked at him evenly. "Come now, Master Horse-lord, what was the dowry- price offered for our marriage?"  
  
"Oh." He looked surprised at the forwardness of her question. A bride's dowry was not discussed much--especially not by the betrothed couple. "'Twas not much, two studs and a herd of goats. Your father insisted on the goats though I would have been happy with the studs."  
  
"So I am worth two studs?" asked Lothiriel quietly, turning away.  
  
"I did not say that, milady. Only that that was the wedding gift so-to-speak from your father. You are gift enough, though I have begun to rue the day I agreed to the arrangement." He managed to coax a smile from the princess at this, albeit a small one.  
  
She looked at him again, and he realized that she had been crying softly. "I daresay I have not been the epitome of a docile lady of Gondor."  
  
"Docile, no. Rebellious, yes. But then so was my sister, so I am used to it. In fact, I should have expected you to run off. Eowyn most certainly would have. She was ever the wild girl who would follow the boys around instead of doing her stitching." Lothiriel's smile grew, and Eomer found that he delighted in his new-found ability to make her do so.  
  
"My cousin must have taken up wandering, then, for Mista tells me that they have wed."  
  
"Faramir has tamed my sister some, if you can call it that. She no longer rides across Rohan without escort, though part of that is from the child she carries within her." Eomer leaned back in the grass.  
  
"A child?" Lothiriel gasped. "I wasn't told!"  
  
Eomer snorted. "Eowyn didn't tell me until after I had decided to journey to Rivendell. I suspect she was afraid I would kill her husband for taking advantage of her."  
  
Lothiriel smiled again. "I suspect my own brothers will want to do the same when...." She did not finish her sentence, but instead trailed into silence.  
  
Sensing that her mood was beginning to deteriorate, Eomer stood. "Have we come to a truce, then, my lady?" he asked, extending his hand.  
  
"I suppose we have," she replied as she stood. "Shall we return to the camp?" Eomer nodded, and the two walked back to the fireside in silence. 


	9. A Change in the Winds

A/N: i'm very excited to announce that i got my first-ever REAL critique!!! YAY!!! thankies muchly to balrogthane for being completely honest about my story.  
  
**disclaimer** you know the routine: i don't own anything or anybody except mista, benn, and thalion (who are all ignored for the most part in this chapter). nothing else to my name, not even a tin of anchovies.  
  
Chapter VIII  
  
March, T.A. 3021  
  
The rest of the journey south was uneventful for the most part. They traveled on the Greenway, heading south to the Gap of Rohan (hehe..the GAP...uh, never mind). The weather was clear and cool, and the travelers made good time. Eomer estimated that they would be in Edoras before the end of the month.  
  
Meanwhile, Lothiriel was getting to know the king of Rohan. They spoke only of pleasant things, never mentioning their pending wedding. She found that he was in fact more amiable than he had seemed in Rivendell. His manner lightened and loosened the further south they journeyed. Lothiriel decided that he would not be so unbearable as a husband as she had initially thought. She smiled somewhat sadly at this realization, and Eomer noticed. He guided Firefoot over to her. "Something upsets you, my lady?" he asked.  
  
She turned to look at him, her smile brighter. "I was just thinking that if this uninhabited land is this beautiful, Rohan must be as beautiful as the sea."  
  
"The sea, Lothiriel?" piped up Mista. "That is a fitting comparison for the land of the Horse-lords. Only it is a sea of grass instead of water."  
  
"A sea of grass?" asked Lothiriel, wide-eyed. "Is that true, my lord?"  
  
Eomer laughed. "Truly, I could not tell you, my lady, for I have never been to the sea. But tell me, did you not travel through Rohan on your journey to Rivendell?"  
  
"Nay, my lord. I have never been through this part of Middle-Earth." She smiled at his incredulous look. "Do not look so surprised. My father sent me to the Grey Havens by ship where two Rangers waited to escort me to Lord Elrond's House. He had deemed it unsafe for me to travel through these lands. Besides, that was ten years ago, and I would probably not remember it well."  
  
"Ten years?" repeated Eomer.  
  
"Aye. Ten long years I've been away from my homeland. 'Tis high time I returned." Lothiriel looked away and continued down the road. The others followed her in silence.  
  
************  
  
That night, the travelers stopped at Tharbad. Eomer had been deep in thought for most of the day and decided to speak with Lothiriel. When she rose from her bed by the campfire to wash her face in the nearby stream, Eomer seized his chance. "My lady?" he said.  
  
She turned to look at him. "Yes?"  
  
"It is not wise to walk alone in this land. There are foul creatures and fouler men who wander the wilds of Dunland. I will escort you?" He phrased it as a question. Lothiriel nodded, and the two made their way to the stream, unaware of the meaningful glances exchanged by the companions they left behind.  
  
When they reached the stream, Lothiriel turned to Eomer. "What is the real reason that you wanted me alone?" Eomer blinked in surprise. "I have three older brothers, milord; I can tell when a man wants to be alone with a woman. Now, what is the reason?"  
  
"I wanted to talk to you...about our marriage." He took a deep breath. "I think--"  
  
"We have to make the best of it," interrupted Lothiriel. "Do not worry, milord, I have no plans of running off again. I will cause you no more trouble."  
  
Something in her voice pained the young king. Resignation. He moved closer to her. "My lady," he whispered, "do not hide yourself away on my account. It is what nearly killed my sister." He closed the gap between them, taking her head in his hands. Silently, softly, he kissed her. "You are a daughter of the lords of Numenor. Your spirit should be free, and if that means we do not marry, so be it." He walked away, leaving Lothiriel by the stream with tears in her eyes.  
  
"Milord," she called. He stopped and returned to where she stood.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Lothiriel smiled tentatively. "I will marry you happily if you promise me something."  
  
"Anything, my lady."  
  
"Call me Lothiriel."  
  
"If you will do one thing for me, Lothiriel." Her name sounded sweet upon his lips. She nodded. "Call me Eomer." 


	10. The Insanity of Noble Relations

A/N: relax, lionel, she has not fallen for our horse-lord. oh no, not yet. do not worry, she will not go down without a fight. she may have resigned herself to her fate, but the story is not over yet! it ain't over 'til the fat dwarf sings (and eru help us all when that happens).

btw, this one's a bit shorter than i would have liked, but never fear: up next, a festive feast in the halls of the horse-lords complete with bards, beer, and boar! ( - how's that for alliteration?)

disclaimer if you don't know that i don't own any of this except my oc's and lothiriel's personality, you obviously don't read the disclaimers.

Chapter IX

March-April, T.A. 3021

The next morning, Mista drew Lothiriel aside as they saddled their horses. "What happened last night? You seem different."

"Nothing, really. We talked about our marriage."

"And?" Mista prompted her to continue.

"And what?" Lothiriel looked at her friend. Suddenly, surprise swept across her face. "Oh! He told me I could back out of the marriage if I didn't want to go through with it." She conveniently left out the part where he kissed her; it was no one's business but her own. And his. The princess smiled at the thought of his lips brushing against hers. It had been so unexpected and so gentle that--

"Are you going to?" Her thoughts were interrupted by Mista's persistent question.

"Am I going to what?"

Mista rolled her eyes: it was obvious that Lothiriel was leaving out something. "Are you going to back out of the marriage?"

Lothiriel was thoughtful for a moment. "I don't think so. Not right now, at least. The way I figure it, Eomer can't be the worst marriage arrangement I could be put through. After all, he's the youngest noble that is not related to me already."

Mista laughed at that.

"What's so funny?" Lothiriel asked.

Between snorts, Mista choked out, "But he is related to you! Through your cousin's marriage to his sister!"

Lothiriel blinked at her friend and then burst into laughter herself. "By the Valar, you're right! What will the children do? They'll have no one to marry!"

"Except for Lord Elessar and Lady Arwen's children! I do hope they have enough children to send to all of the other nobility. Otherwise--"

"We'll have to send them to the far corners of the world!" interjected Lothiriel. "Can you imagine!? Elphir's children will have to go to Dale, Faramir's to Harad, and the rest will just have to go to Bree!"

Eomer came up beside them, already mounted. "Who has to go to Bree?" he asked.

"No one," said Lothiriel. "Not yet, at least...." The two women looked at each other and burst into fresh peals of laughter as Eomer exchanged confused glances with the other men.

"Right, then," said Eomer. "We ride to Rohan. It's less than a week's journey from here to Isengard, and only a day from there. Shall we go?" The women had calmed down enough to nod, and in moment they were on their way to the tower of Isengard.

They reached Isengard before the end of the week. The five companions rode past the ruins in silence. As they came around the southern side of that once-great tower, Lothiriel gasped. They were atop a rise, and before them lay the most beautiful sight she had ever seen on land. It was a sea of gold, indeed, and in the distance rose a golden city shining in the sun. Eomer came to her side. "Welcome to Rohan, Lady Lothiriel."


	11. A Dish Best Served Cold

A/N: hey, remember how i mentioned once that i already had later chapters written? well, here's the first of them, which is good, because this means i'll not have to think so hard about what i'm going to say. unfortunately, i have a research paper due tuesday (i'm going to try to turn it in on monday) which means that i will be writing said paper instead of typing my fic (i've been putting it off all week, and if i don't do it tomorrow, i may never get it done).  
  
there's some foreshadowing in this chapter...i'll be interested to see who catches it before you meet Him........  
  
**disclaimer** if i owned any of this, i would be putting it together in a book and having it published and making millions from the money you would pay for it. as it is, i don't even own the songs. 'the seagulls still follow on freedom' is a sea chanty, and 'i once loved a lass' is a folk song. i modified 'seagulls' to fit within the geography of middle earth.  
  
Chapter X  
  
April, T.A. 3021  
  
The night after the travelers arrived in Edoras, a feast was held. The Rohirrim passed tankards around freely, singing bawdy songs. Lothiriel had never seen anything like it, not even in the pubs that dotted the wharfs of Dol Amroth. She told Eomer as much, and he laughed. "Welcome to Meduseld, Lothiriel, where your tankard will never be empty!" He grinned and added, "But how does a princess such as yourself know of the goings-on in the seaside taverns?"  
  
Lothiriel smiled. "You forget, Eomer, that I grew up alongside five men: my three brothers and two cousins. There were no girls in my family. My only female companion in Dol Amroth was Mista, and her da owns the finest tavern and inn this side of Bree!" With that, she drained her tankard in one long gulp and refilled it.  
  
"That does not explain how you know of the wharf-side pubs."  
  
"Doesn't it?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "I'll tell you then. Before I was sent to Rivendell, Mista and I followed Amrothos, my brother, whenever he snuck out of the palace. He always went to the same place: the Laughing Bards Tavern. He was sweet on a girl there, though now he is married to Nimrodel of Edhellond and has two children I have yet to meet." She fell silent, sipping her ale.  
  
Eomer saw that her fair mood was darkening, so he said, "My lady, would you care to dance?"  
  
She looked at him gravely. "Eomer, I can barely walk without tripping; how do you expect me to dance? You'd have to get me far more drunk than I already am."  
  
"Care for some more ale?" He grinned at her.  
  
"Why, yes, I do!" She allowed him to refill her mug, talking all the while. "Your songs are not so different from ours. I recognized the one about the man whose lover marries another. 'Tis a sad song no matter who sings it."  
  
"Yes. We call it 'I Once Loved a Lass.' I think it traveled south from Anorien in the days of the Two Kingdoms. Our people have sung it for many generations." He glanced at her. "Are you ready to dance?"  
  
Lothiriel laughed. "You really want me to make a fool of myself, don't you?" Eomer nodded. She emptied her tankard a third time, saying, "I'll not dance for you yet, but perhaps I will sing you a song."  
  
"A song!" cried Eomer. He stood, silencing the hall. "My friends, Lady Lothiriel has offered to sing a song for us. What say you to that?" Cheers arose from the crowded hall as Lothiriel blushed deeply.  
  
"You did not tell me I'd have to sing it for everyone," she whispered as she took a harp from a near-by bard.  
  
"You didn't ask." He grinned impishly. "Now what will you sing for us?"  
  
Lothiriel sat thoughtfully for a moment, tuning the harp. The entire hall watched her intently, causing her to blush even more. "I suppose I could sing a song of the sea," she said tentatively.  
  
"A song of the sea!" echoed Eomer, and a second round of cheers arose.  
  
Satisfied that the harp was tuned, Lothiriel began to sing:  
  
"In Belfalas Bay there sat on the shore A young girl who mourned for her love who's no more The pride of his manhood is the prize of the sea And the seagulls still follow on freedom  
  
She reached out her hand to an old man passed by And she lifted her head with a tear in her eye Said, 'Sit and I'll tell you a tale of some woe While the seagulls still follow on freedom'  
  
'I come from Dol Amroth, upon the mainland And there's many's a thing here that I don't understand Like why these young men are still slaves to the sea When the seagulls still follow on freedom'  
  
He said to this young maid, as he held her small hand 'The sea and its fury are part of this land And them who can't take it had better not stay With the seagulls who follow on freedom'  
  
'Those men who quote figures and count the cause lost They see on the high seas and the lives it has cost They don't see the life as we know it to be Like the seagulls who follow on freedom'  
  
'So they cheat us and they rob us and continue to say That our only salvation is leaving the bay But I'll soon be ninety and there's one thing I know That the seagulls still follow on freedom.'"  
  
When she finished, the people clapped appreciatively and resumed their drinking. Lothiriel handed the harp back to the bard who immediately began a reel. Eomer passed her another mug of ale, took her free hand, and led her outside where a cool breeze blew. "You could've told me I'd be singing for everyone," she muttered.  
  
"And ruin the surprise? Nay, Lothiriel, the look on your face was far too priceless. Consider it my revenge, if you will."  
  
"Revenge for what?"  
  
He shrugged. "Stealing my horse, running away, the usual...." Lothiriel snorted.  
  
"Fine," she said. "You've had your revenge. It's good that we can both sleep peacefully."  
  
"Not yet, Lothiriel."  
  
She looked at him. "What do you mean, 'Not yet'?"  
  
"You haven't danced with me yet." He grinned down at her scowl.  
  
"I've hardly drunk enough. I'm only on my fourth mug! In Rivendell, I could hold ten or more goblets of cordial before swaggering off to bed. Granted, those things are much smaller than these barrels--" she indicated the mug she held "--but that stuff's just as strong if not moreso. Nay, I shall have to have at least one more ale before I can dance properly."  
  
"Another ale for the lady, then!" exclaimed Eomer. "I shall have a dance with you tonight even if I must wait until dawn to have it!"  
  
A/N (again): i hope this makes up for the extremely short chapter preceding it. up next, a dance, a drunk, and a midnight confession. 


	12. The Window to Her Past

A/N: you may have wondered why, exactly, i have a pg-13 rating for this (because, as yet, there has been no reason for one). well, this is (sort of) the start of it. NO, they do NOT have sex, you dirty- minded people (at least not yet...hehe). but there may be a few, um, off-color remarks and situations in the next couple of chapters.  
  
ah, yes! congratulations to lariren-shadow for correctly guessing the foreshadowing! i don't think i'll say what it is yet, in case the rest of you want to guess (hint: it has to do with one of the songs mentioned in the last chapter).  
  
**disclaimer** i recently bought an aragorn poster because they don't make eomer posters (well, there is one, but eowyn and theoden are on it, too, which ruins all the fun). that's the closest i'll ever get to owning the king of rohan or any of his cohorts.  
  
Chapter XI  
  
April, T.A. 3021  
  
Two more mugs of ale later, Eomer finally convinced Lothiriel to dance with him. Well, *try* to dance with him. She tripped on his feet several times, both because of the strangeness of the Rohirric dance and all of the ale she had had. She was so drunk that Eomer was afraid she would fall flat on her face if he let her go for a moment. Luckily, the song was a short one. When it ended, Lothiriel staggered over to a nearby chair and collapsed, giggling. Eomer followed her.  
  
"Lothiriel," he asked, "shall we go outside?"  
  
"Alone?" giggled the princess. "Without a chaperone?" Eomer nodded. "We'll be scandalized! It isn't proper for a..a..." she faltered.  
  
"A princess?" offered Eomer.  
  
"Yes, a princess and a king to go unattended." She shook her head vigorously only to stop mid- shake and hold it in her hands. "Outssside would be nice."  
  
Eomer sighed and lifted her up. "Come on then, my lady. You need fresh air." He carried her out to a stone bench where he lay her head on his chest. She giggled even harder at this.  
  
"Oh, you shouldn't do that!" she exclaimed, looking up at him with wine-bright eyes. "It's scandal! What will my father say? What will the king say?"  
  
"I am the king," he replied. "And I say you are not taking part in scandal....Not yet at least," he said under his breath.  
  
"I know you're the king of Rohan, silly! I meant the other king. Lord Aragorn, King Elessar. What would he say if he found out that I was here with you...alone?" Lothiriel drew the last word out as if it was a "naughty" word.  
  
"I doubt Aragorn will mind. He is married after all."  
  
"It's a pity Arwen married him--he was well sought-after all over Middle Earth." She looked up at Eomer. "I would'a married him if he'd asked me. Anyone would!"  
  
"Yes," the Rohirric lord murmured distractedly. Her hair smelled nice--a mixture of hay and wildflowers. It was beautiful, he noted, dark and wavy, so unlike the golden hair of his own people.  
  
Lothiriel sat up and leaned closer to him, burying her head in his chest. "Eomer, I must tell you something."  
  
He looked down at her dark head and put his arm around her. "Yes?"  
  
"When I was younger, and still in Dol Amroth, Faramir and Boromir would visit. We--us and Mista--would play on the beach, and always Boromir and Mista would be king and queen, and Faramir and I the rulers of Harad. We'd build forts of sand and our faithful 'husbands' would swprdfight. And I believed it would be that way forever: me marrying Faramir, Mista marrying Boromir.  
  
As we grew older, of course, I realized it wouldn't be like that. Faramir and Boromir went to war, I was sent to Rivendell, and Mista stayed in Dol Amroth. I was lonely in Rivendell. Ten years is a long time to be away from kin. And then, three years ago, Boromir came! We spent several hours together, him telling me of all that had happened. But all too soon," she sighed, "he left, and my connection to the world without was again gone." She looked up at Eomer. "It's a funny place, isn't it?"  
  
"Hmm?" He glanced down at her, expecting more talk of Boromir.  
  
"Well, I used to think I'd marry Faramir," she explained, "before I knew better. Then your sister did, and now I'm marrying you. So he and I are still sort of half-married, aren't we?"  
  
"You're drunk," he said, smiling.  
  
Lothiriel grinned up at him. "Yessh," she slurred and leaned into his chest, snoring gently.  
  
A/N (again): another short chapter, i'm sorry. hope you liked lothiriel's confession...probably not what you were expecting at all. next up: mass confusion when the princess wakes up in an absolutely scandalous room! and a tender side to the gruff king of rohan.......btw, if you haven't noticed, the word of the day is scandalous. 


	13. The Importance of Being Sober

A/N: my computer's been doing weird things, and i had to do my research paper (i turned it in today...03/23/04). but here it is, and i hope you enjoy! btw, some of the things that take place in this actually happened to me, no thanks to chasm, so i was forced to dedicate the chapter.  
  
this is dedicated to chasm the ogre of the trollshaws for the idea to have the mock battle to restore lothiriel's honor after eomer says...well, you'll see what i'm talking about.  
  
**disclaimer** if i owned any of the lotr franchise, i would be living happily in france with my two bishis (their names are orlando and eomer...). unfortunately, i own none of this, and so i make no profit from writing my theory on how eomer got married to lothiriel. *sigh* such is the way of the world.  
  
Chapter XII  
  
April, T.A. 3021  
  
Lothiriel awoke with a drum pounding between her ears. Someone--she didn't know who--had undressed her and put her in a bedroom. She sat up and looked around. It wasn't her bedroom; it was much too ornate for the simple guestroom she had been given. Besides, it was more spacious and lived-in. She glanced around, noting the carved horse emblems all over the room. There were some clothes lying rather haphazardly in the floor by a large animal skin. It was a bearskin, which was rare for a place south of the Misty Mountains. Then it dawned on her. Lothiriel turned back to the clothes. There were two piles, one of which was hers, and the other? Well, suffice it to say that they were most definitely *not* hers. For one thing, they were much too big, and for another, they were men's clothing. Lothiriel looked more closely at the tunic and breeches. The shirt had a trim in a horse motif (not surprising). It could have been anyone's clothing, but given the large, ornate room and the bearskin, there was really only one man in the country that it *could* belong to. Eomer.  
  
Lothiriel immediately cursed her stupidity. She should never have drunk that last mug of ale. She couldn't remember anything after the dance. Had she and Eomer...? It was best not to think about it, she decided. Her father would kill her if he found out! And what if she was with child? Her monthly bleeding was due to start in a week or so, so it was possible....She and Eomer would have to marry immediately, so no one would suspect. It was that, or find a way to lose the child, which Lothiriel knew she could never do.  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted by a servant opening the door. "I brought you some tea, milady," the girl piped sweetly. "It's laced with kingsfoil. Lord Eomer said you'd have a nasty headache from the ale last night." She giggled. "Most of his guests do the first time."  
  
"Oh?" Lothiriel sipped the tea and soon forgot all of her worries from a few minutes before. It was good, soothing. She leaned back against the headboard, immersed in a world of pleasant memories. It reminded her of the sea and her childhood--something she had not thought of since the night Eomer had kissed her by the stream.  
  
"...wanted me to bring you to the training grounds after you dressed and had a bit to eat. I didn't find any breeches or tunics in your rooms, so I brought an outfit from Lady Eowyn's old things that she left here. She won't mind; after all, you'll be sisters soon." The servant girl smiled.  
  
"Yes, that's right, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes, milady." Lothiriel's question had been rhetorical, but the girl answered just the same. "Shall I help you dress?" she inquired.  
  
"No, no. I can do it myself." Lothiriel waved her away. "I'll eat in the great hall--wait for me there." The girl nodded, curtseyed, and exited the room.  
  
Lothiriel climbed out of the bed. The stone floor was cold, so she stepped over to the bearskin. The girl had left Eowyn's clothes in a neatly-folded pile on a chair. Lothiriel picked up the pants and put them on. It was a snug fit, and they were a little short, but they would do. The tunic fit much better, falling shapelessly over her small breasts. There was also a belt, which she wrapped loosely around her waist. She undid the leather thong in her hair and retied it. She laced up her boots, tucking the pants inside them. A basin of water sat on a table, so she washed her face and was at last ready for a meal.  
  
************  
  
A loaf of bread and two bowls of stew later, Lothiriel was following the talkative serving girl out to the training fields where the soldiers of Rohan were practicing with their weapons. They were a marvelous sight (the fields, not the men...ok, so the men were a marvelous sight, too). The two women were by the western archery grounds, the sword practice was in the center of the field, and on the other end were the stables and spear training. Lothiriel could barely make out Eomer working with the horses, so she dismissed the girl and began making her way across the grounds.  
  
As she walked past, the men stopped their training to stare at her. They had not seen a woman dressed in such garb and walking amongst them since Lady Eowyn had left for Gondor. Wasn't she the king's lady? they whispered to each other. They watched her carefully, only going back to their work when she reached the fenced area where the king awaited her.  
  
Eomer grinned and waved at Lothiriel. He handed the reins of the horse he was running to another man and jogged over to where she stood. "I see the sleeping beauty has finally awoken," he said.  
  
"Ha! I'll wager you haven't been up much longer than I!" she exclaimed in return.  
  
"On the contrary, I have been up since daybreak tending the horses," Eomer replied. "Meanwhile, might I remind you, you snored away in *my* bed." This remark was obviously the wrong thing to say because Lothiriel's eyes filled with tears, and her mind shot back to when she had first awoken. Concern swept across Eomer's face. "Have I said something to offend you, my lady?" He guided her over to a secluded bench by the stables.  
  
"Eomer, I should not have drunk so much ale last night," she said. "Please forgive me." She paused. "I cannot remember anything past our dance. It should have been more special, and I am sorry that we will be unable to share that memory. Will you--can you--forgive me?" She looked at him with sorrow-filled eyes.  
  
Eomer was now both concerned and confused. "Lothiriel, are you sure you're feeling all right?" he asked, putting his hand to her forehead.  
  
"Yes. No. I'm not sure! I don't know what happened--how far we went. I don't even remember going to your rooms, let alone what took place in there."  
  
"You shouldn't."  
  
"W-what?"  
  
"You fell asleep soon after we danced. I put you in my rooms because I didn't know where yours were. Had I thought about it, I would have put you in Eowyn's rooms instead." Lothiriel breathed an audible sigh of relief, and Eomer looked at her. "What did you think had happened?"  
  
"I-I was afraid th-that," she stuttered, "that you and I--that we had, you know...." She shrugged. "I was drunk, and I woke up in your bed half-dressed with both your clothes and mine in the floor. What was I supposed to think?"  
  
Eomer laughed, rich and deep. "You were afraid that something had happened because I left my clothes in the floor?" Lothiriel nodded, unsure of where the humor was. "I changed clothes in the adjoining bath," he explained. "I must have dumped them in there without thinking. I'm sorry to have frightened you so."  
  
"Where did you stay, then?" she asked.  
  
"The stables."  
  
"With the horses!?! You should have awakened me."  
  
He grinned that same impish grin from the night before that had nearly melted Lothiriel. "I tried. You were out like a wet candle in the wind. You were also snoring loud enough to drown out a stampede."  
  
"I resent that! I do *not* snore!"  
  
"Ha! How would you know? You can't even remember anything that happened while you were conscious!" The two were so absorbed in their argument, that they didn't notice the Rohirrim who had begun to gather around them.  
  
Lothiriel's jaw dropped. "I think I've been insulted!"  
  
"And what are you going to do about it?" He cocked an eyebrow at her.  
  
"I, good sir," Lothiriel said, drawing herself up regally, "am going to remove your reason for wearing a loincl--no. I could not leave the king of Rohan without a way to produce an heir." Stifled laughter arose from the men at the princess's audacity. She smiled, planning her next move. "Instead, I shall challenge you to a duel, Dol Amroth-style."  
  
"A duel?" repeated Eomer. "Who will you ask to fight to defend your honor? Any of my men will be glad to lend you his prowess, though none can beat me in a battle." He gestured at the grinning soldiers.  
  
"Did I say I would send a man to defend my honor? You must have misunderstood, my king. *I* am challenging you to a duel." She grinned at him. "As these fine soldiers are my witnesses, I will expect you to meet me in this very field tomorrow at noon for an Amrothian battle. Be prepared."  
  
A/N (again): see? i told you there'd be a fight! although, i daresay this is nothing like what you thought it would be. i was going to have the duel in this chapter, but it's nearly three pages on the word processor with size 11 font, so i'll save it for the next one (plus i haven't written that part yet). next up: the duel and then they will finally head to dol amroth where you will meet HIM.......... 


	14. The Kick Is Mightier Than the Sword

A/N: here it is, the moment you've all been waiting for, THE DUEL!!! special thanks to taran for helping me write this (actually, she wrote most of it b/c she was annoyed that i hadn't written it yet) and to chasm (again) for allowing me to try to knock off his balance by kicking the backs of his knees (it sort of worked, and besides, i have the advantage of artistic licence).  
  
i'm introducing a new character that is a prevalent part of another fanfic i've been toying with. i thought this would be a good chance to bring him into the mix (no, he is not the ONE).  
  
**disclaimer** i own nothing except for mista, riordan, harrana, and the occurrences in the duel. i don't even own the dueling style. i stole it from the sca (society for creative anachronism). anyways, i hope you enjoy it!  
  
Chapter XIII  
  
April, T.A. 3021  
  
"And then I challenged him to an Amrothian duel!" crowed Lothiriel. It was late in the evening, and she was relating the details of her day to her friend as they dressed for bed. "You should have seen his face! It was priceless!"  
  
Mista laughed alongside her friend. "This sounds perfectly wonderful, Lothiriel, but what exactly *is* an Amrothian-style duel?"  
  
"That's the best part. I have no idea!" The two burst into fresh peals of laughter.  
  
"I suppose you'll have to come up with something in the morning," said Mista. "But for now, let's sleep. You must save your energy, you know." And with a last burst of giggles, she blew out the candle, and they both drifted into sleep.  
  
************  
  
On the other side of the palace, Eomer was pacing in his room. The coming duel was a paradox: if he beat her, it would be an unfair match, for he was the stronger of the two by far. But if he lost, he became a source of amusement for his men. There was no way around it; he would have to beat her, but not so much that she would hate him.  
  
There was a knock at the door. "Come in," he said.  
  
Riordan, the king's bard and one of his most trusted advisors, entered the room. "Milord, you called for me?"  
  
"Yes. You have been to Dol Amroth before, haven't you?"  
  
The dark-skinned man nodded.  
  
"Good." Eomer paced some more. "I need any information you might have on how they go about their duels."  
  
"Their duels?" inquired the bard. "I don't understand." Actually, he knew perfectly well what the king was talking about and had no idea how to tell him what an Amrothian duel entailed.  
  
"You have heard about the duel the Lady Lothiriel is having against me at noon tomorrow, yes?" Riordan made a little half-nod, neither admitting he had, nor denying it. "I need to know how their duels work, so I know best what tactics to use."  
  
The bard cringed slightly. He had seen a duel in Dol Amroth between two men over a lady. It wasn't a pretty sight: they had fought to the death, but the winner was now scarred and missing an ear. Riordan rubbed his own ear at the memory. "Sire, I never saw a duel take place there, though I doubt it could be much different from the duels we have here," he lied.  
  
Eomer sighed. He would have to be careful he did not hurt the princess. "Thank you, Riordan, that is all." The man nodded and turned to go. "Oh, Riordan?"  
  
He turned back to the king. "Yes, your majesty?"  
  
"Your lady will send you a message. Have faith in her. She has a long journey before she gets home."  
  
"I know, sir." The bard left.  
  
Eomer sighed again. His friend was so lonely, but there was nothing to be done about it. No one had seen the lady Harrana in nearly three years--not since Eowyn and Riordan had helped her escape Minas Tirith. She had promised she would find him again, but it seemed that she had forgotten him after all.  
  
************  
  
The next day dawned bright and clear. Lothiriel woke and dressed in another of Eowyn's tunics, though she opted for a pair of Mista's pants because they fit her better. She pulled her long hair back into a braid and wound it on top of her head, binding it with a leather thong. Mista helped her stretch her legs and arms. "Have you figured out how the duel will work?" she asked.  
  
"I have indeed." Lothiriel grinned. "You remember when my cousins and brothers had mock fights?" Mista nodded. "I was thinking we could have the duel in the same fashion. That way I don't have to worry about getting my arms hacked off because I haven't had much practice with a glaive in so long."  
  
"A glaive?" exclaimed Mista. "Where do you expect to find one?"  
  
Lothiriel shrugged. "Our weapons will be wooden. I'll break a staff in half and use it."  
  
The two finished their stretches and made their way to the great hall for breakfast.  
  
************  
  
In his room, Eomer was dressing as well. His squire helped him put on his armor, polishing it to a golden hue that matched the sun in the sky. Riordan brought him breakfast, a loaf of bread and some cheese. Eomer would not leave his room until just before the duel.  
  
************  
  
It was nearly midday. Lothiriel and Mista had been waiting at the arena for some time, watching as the gathering crowd grew. It seemed that the whole of Edoras had come to watch their monarch and soon-to-be-monarch battle it out. Lothiriel should have known: there had been too many soldiers around yesterday.  
  
At last, the king made his way down to the arena, followed by Riordan and others of his entourage. Lothiriel and Mista nearly burst into laughter when they saw his garb: he was dressed in full armor and looked ready to battle a full battalion of orcs. He strode into the arena and looked at the princess like she was insane for not wearing armor.  
  
"Milord," she began, "you would do well to remove your armor, for it will no doubt hinder you."  
  
Eomer scowled at Lothiriel. "You would have done well to tell me thus before now."  
  
"You did not ask, milord." Lothiriel grinned as he began pulling off his gear. "Now, the rules of Amrothian duel are quite simple. We each receive a wooden weapon, so that we do not truly injure our opponent. We will face off in the arena, using normal hand-to-hand combat tactics. If your opponent strikes your arm, you lose that arm, and it must hang limp; likewise, your leg, if struck, is no longer useful, and you must hop about on one leg. The first of us to hit the ground is the loser. However, do not try to truly injure your opponent, for that will be considered a forfeit. Understood?"  
  
"Sounds easy enough." Eomer had gotten the last of his armor off and was standing in his tunic and trousers. "One thing, though. If you win, your honor will be restored, but what do I gain if *I* win?" he asked.  
  
"What ever you wish...within reason." Lothiriel replied with caution because a mischievious grin had crept onto the face of the king.  
  
"Within reason....." He stroked his chin. "How about a kiss? It is innocent enough." This pronouncement was followed by many whistles and cat-calls from the soldiers.  
  
Lothiriel blushed slightly, but said in a confident tone, "Very well, you battle for a kiss. Now, what weapon will you choose?"  
  
Eomer took a wooden sword from the racks by the stable and gave it an experimental swing, testing its balance. He nodded his approval and asked, "What will your weapon be?"  
  
"Have you any lances?" Immediately, three were brought from the practice armory. Lothiriel took the thickest. She brought it to her knee, saying, "Mind if I...?"  
  
"By all means," replied Eomer.  
  
Lothiriel broke it in half with a resounding crack. She rotated both halves in her hands and tossed the longer piece aside. "Ready?" she asked.  
  
"A king is always ready," Eomer answered, twirling his sword.  
  
He stood, muscles loose, sword at the ready. Lothiriel faced him, turned slightly to the side, her glaive up in the guard position as her brothers had taught her years ago. The pair circled, searching for weaknesses, trying out a few measured blows. Suddenly, Eomer bellowed a war cry and rushed forward. Lothiriel, who had not started at his shout, parried his blows easily. He drew back to renew his attack, but Lothiriel chose that moment to swing her glaive. Eomer parried, but barely. She feigned right, placed her glaive for balance, raised her left leg, and kicked the backs of Eomer's knees. She planted her left foot back on the ground and swung her glaive into his stomach. His legs buckled, and he fell forward, but as he did so, he grabbed Lothiriel's legs, dragging her down with him.  
  
The crowd cheered, unsure of the winner, but cheered just the same. Eomer stood up and leaned over top of Lothiriel. He extended his hand. "I think, my lady, that we shall call it a draw."  
  
"But that means that neither of us gets what we want, and so my honor is not restored," she said as she took his hand.  
  
He helped her up, talking just loud enough that she could hear him. "Or, we could say that both of us win, and then we both get what we want." He grinned. "Your honor is restored, my lady," he said, making sure the crowd heard him. Eomer made a sweeping bow, to the delight of their audience.  
  
"And the kiss?" she inquired softly.  
  
"I will save it for another day," he whispered in her ear. "When there are not so many witnesses."   
  
A/N: and so the duel ends! now you must be wondering when the kiss will come. well, you'll just have to stick around and find out, won't you? oh, yes, i'm horrible. torturing reviewers is almost as much fun as torturing the characters, so you'll have to forgive me. up next: a weaponry discussion, and they *finally* decide to go to dol amroth so you can meet HIM.......... 


	15. The Bonding of Two Worlds

A/N: haha! yes, i wanted to make it a stalemate (didn't start out that way...was going to have her win, but then we realized chasm was right {don't tell him i said that}, so taran and i changed it). eokat, i'm glad you liked the chapter title. came up with it all by meself (with a little help from a famous proverb/quote/thing).  
  
i dedicate this chapter to taran for getting me through my brief bout of writer's block. i also want to give a tip-of-the-hat to sherwood smith, author of crown duel, who inadvertently gave me the idea for eomer's wager (go read crown duel...it's wonderful!).  
  
**disclaimer** do you have any idea how hard it is to write a new disclaimer for every chapter? it's not easy. well, i don't own anything except for my oc's. and i don't even know if they'll show up in this chapter.  
  
Chapter XIV  
  
April, T.A. 3021  
  
Eomer and Lothiriel walked back to the city together. At last, Eomer broke the silence. "Would you care to go for a ride this evening, milady?"  
  
"Please, I've told you before, call me Lothiriel. And yes, a ride would be nice."  
  
"We could take some food with us and have dinner together. I know a lovely place by a stream where we could eat." He looked at her.  
  
"That would be wonderful," Lothiriel replied.  
  
"In an hour then?"  
  
She smiled. "In an hour."  
  
************  
  
They met in the stables. Eomer had already procured some food and had packed it in a saddlebag. Firefoot was stomping the ground, impatient to leave. Lothiriel, however, was looking around, clearly agitated. Eomer turned to her. "Lothiriel?"  
  
"Yes?" She looked surprised.  
  
"What is wrong?"  
  
"I have no horse. I rode one of Thalion's here, but he took it back to Bree when he left."  
  
"Oh. I see." Eomer glanced around at the horses in the stalls. All of them were owned by his men; he couldn't take any of them without causing a fuss, and there wasn't time to hunt down another horse. "Ride with me."  
  
"W-with you?" she stuttered, fully aware of the implications.  
  
Eomer, on the other hand, was completely oblivious to the fact that what he had said could be seen as a lewd remark. "Yes. Firefoot is most certainly big enough for two people. Besides, he likes you enough that I won't have to worry about him being agitated." It was true enough. The horse had given up on leaving and was instead snorting into Lothiriel's hair. Against her better judgement, she consented, and Eomer helped her onto the horse. He pulled himself into the saddle behind her, and the threesome took off.  
  
************  
  
As they rode across the plains, Eomer took the chance to ask Lothiriel a question that had bothered him for quite some time. "Why did you take Firefoot to Bree?"  
  
Lothiriel turned slightly. "Honestly? I'm not completely sure. I wanted to infuriate you because I felt that...well, because. I also knew that he was the fastest horse in the valley. I wonder if maybe I took him because I knew you wouldn't have come for me otherwise. You didn't care about me at the time, only the horse, right?"  
  
"You are, unfortunately, completely correct. I am glad now, that you took him. Had you come into trouble, he would have kept you safe. That is how our horses are trained: they protect their riders and are our friends in the darkest of hours." He smiled, though Lothiriel could not see it.  
  
At length, they came to a small stream at the bottom of a hill. Eomer halted and slid with easy grace off the horse's back. He held his arms out to Lothiriel, who jumped lightly into them. They separated after a moment and went to their tasks, Lothiriel setting up their meal and Eomer caring for Firefoot.  
  
Their fare was simple, but elegant. They sat in silence, happy to be in each other's presence. Then, Eomer threw a grape at Lothiriel, hitting her in the eye. "Ow!" she cried. "What was that for?"  
  
He grinned at her. "You were being too quiet to be up to anything good."  
  
"Oh really?" She raised an eyebrow. "And what of you? I am not the one who throws food like a little boy."  
  
"Yes, well at least I don't cheat at duels."  
  
"I'll have you know that I did not cheat. I was merely making up for what I lack in brute strength."  
  
"By hitting me in the stomach with that stick of yours?"  
  
At that, Lothiriel was indignant. "That was no stick! I'll have you know that I defeated you with a glaive, one of my people's finest weapons!"  
  
"Glaive, stick, to me they are one and the same," he replied nonchalantly.  
  
"They would be to you. They don't require the wielder to be made entirely out of muscle as your swords do. In fact, I doubt you could use one properly!"  
  
"And I daresay I can!" he shouted back at her, leaving Lothiriel slightly stunned by the volume and annoyance in his voice.  
  
"Fine. Prove it." She crossed her arms and looked at him.  
  
Eomer sat silently for a moment. "I don't know how," he said quietly.  
  
Lothiriel sighed. "Would you like me to show you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Very well." She stood up and looked around. There were a couple of scraggly trees across the stream. Lothiriel unlaced her boots and rolled up her pants. She waded the stream, as Eomer watched her with interest. She reached the other side, circled the trees, and finding a good branch, she reached up, grabbed it, and broke it off. Lothiriel threw it over to Eomer and re-crossed the stream. "Your glaive, good sir."  
  
"It's too short," he said, standing. It reached half-way up his torso.  
  
"Actually, it is too tall." Lothiriel took it back from him and broke it across her knee so that it only reached to his waist. "Now it is just right."  
  
Eomer swung it around a bit. "Looks like a stick to me." He smirked at her.  
  
She scowled at him. "If it was a real glaive, there would be a ten-inch blade similar to that of a dagger on one end, and it would be inlaid with steel. It can be wielded as a staff, sword, or spear would be, thus making it an invaluable weapon. It can also be thrown, as such." She took it in her hands again and twirled around, letting it free from her hands to have it slam into the side of the hill.  
  
"A formidable weapon."  
  
"Yes." Lothiriel retrieved the staff. "My kin have used it for centuries." She tossed the glaive to Eomer. He took it in his hands and twirled around the same way she had and let it fly. Instead of hitting the hill, however, it spun and hit Lothiriel.  
  
"Ai! Ai!" she cried, covering her eye with her hands.  
  
"Lothiriel! Are you alright?" Eomer rushed over to where she huddled on the ground.  
  
Lothiriel sat up slightly and turned. Her eyes were watery, and already a bruise was forming at the corner of her left eye. "I'll be fine, I think. It caught me right here." She indicated the fast-swelling lump next to her eye.  
  
"I'm sorry. I should not have done that," Eomer breathed into her face.  
  
Lothiriel was suddenly aware of their close proximity. She tried to smile. "It's alright. I hit Amrothos several times before I got the hang of throwing it."  
  
"You'll have a black eye before we get back," he said, tenderly brushing the bruise with his fingers. Lothiriel's breath caught as he took her head in his hands and kissed her, gently, like he had that night in Hollin.  
  
"You have collected your wager, then?" asked Lothiriel, almost dejectedly.  
  
"Did I say such?" he returned.  
  
"No...." He leaned in again, and kissed her more passionately. She stiffened, surprised, and then returned the kiss. They drew away, their breath ragged.  
  
He grinned. "I have collected my wager."  
  
"It's getting late," whispered Lothiriel. "We should head back." The sun had almost set, and she had no wish to be outside of the city unchaperoned with Eomer. The kiss moments before had firmed her resolve. It would not do for her to awake in a predicament similar to that of the day before, especially not if something actually happened.  
  
"You are right. We don't need to have a scandal on our hands." Lothiriel was glad that the sun was behind her, so he could not see her blush.  
  
They cleaned up from their meal, remounted Firefoot, and rode back to Edoras, each lost in their own thoughts. 


	16. To Feel the Sun From Both Sides

A/N: first of all, i'd like to say **WARNING: MAJOR FLUFF ALERT. IF YOU ARE ALLERGIC TO FLUFF, PLEASE SKIP EVERYTHING ABOVE THE FIRST SET OF 12 ASTERISKS. EVEN THEN, YOU MAY NOT BE SAFE.**  
  
this is dedicated to niko, who drew a picture of me beating up chasm, and is going to draw chibi eomer for me because she is nice.  
  
**disclaimer** if i owned eomer (*sigh*), then i would not need niko to draw me a picture of him because he would always be right next to me (always...hehe...we all know what that means *winkwink*)(-oh yes, i'm bad).  
  
Chapter XV  
  
April, T.A. 3021  
  
Lothiriel lay wide awake that night. Even if she had wanted to go to sleep, she knew she wouldn't be able to. The thought of that kiss kept her thoughts from quieting. Ah, that kiss. Even now, she was not entirely sure *why* she had returned it so...so intensely. It felt wonderful, though, and was a euphoria like none she had ever known. Was it just the pleasant surprise of the moment, or was there truly something between them? She could not decide. So Lothiriel lay in her bed, reliving the evening (conveniently skipping the part where eomer hit her in the head with the glaive), trying to decipher both her and the king's emotions while the rest of Rohan slept peacefully. Or so she thought, because...  
  
...On the other side of Meduseld, another soon-to-be-married nobleperson lay restlessly in his own bed. He also was reliving the evening, though his thoughts were aimed at figuring out a way to explain the black eye Lothiriel now sported to her father. Eomer sighed. He was an imbecile for trying to throw the thing into the hill. And then he remembered what had come afterward. Ah, that kiss. He had not really planned for it to happen that way. He smiled, remembering the enthusiasm with which it was returned. Could she truly have meant everything that seemed to be in that kiss? Was she in love with him? Eomer had not been able to fathom how she would ever love him after all that had gone on before they reached Rohan. But now, now, he was not so sure it was impossible.  
  
************  
  
Lothiriel awoke with a throbbing pain by her eye. The spot where the glaive had connected with her head was tender, and more-than-likely purple. Sighing, she climbed out of bed and put on a dark brown dress. The morning was grey and dismal, the air heavy with the scent of rain. Lothiriel was slightly upset at the thought that she would not be able to go riding. Instead, she would have to stay in Meduseld and do embroidery--something she loathed. Mista had not awoken, so she quietly slipped out of their room and headed toward the dining hall.  
  
There were few people in the hall, mostly riders who were having a quick breakfast before leaving for their patrols. Lothiriel didn't really recognize any of them, so she prepared to have her meal alone when one of them stood and came toward her. He was a handsome man, his skin darker than most of the others'. His eyes were a rich hazel, very beautiful, but they seemed to hold sadness in their depths. He nodded at her, saying, "Good morning, Lady Lothiriel. How do you fare?"  
  
Lothiriel smiled. "I am well, thank you. Would you care to sit with me, sir...?" She let the word hang in the air.  
  
"Riordan, milady." He bowed slightly to her and seated himself. "I am one of Eomer's advisors, though precisely why, I am not sure. Before the War, I was merely the court bard."  
  
"There must be a reason. Did you play an important part in the Great Battle?" Lothiriel's curiosity had been piqued, and she had no intention of letting the man leave without telling her his story.  
  
Riordan leaned back in his chair. "I was not so important to have been appointed king's advisor. In fact, I really did not have much part in the battle at all. Actually, I think it is more from who I found on the battlefield than anything else."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You have heard the tale of Lady Eowyn, yes?" Lothiriel nodded.  
  
"Did you find her?" she exclaimed, her eyes alight with excitement.  
  
"Nay, milady, I did not. Rather, I found a more curious woman. Her name is Harrana, which means 'Wanders South' in her people's tongue. She was the only living Haradrim woman we found on the field that day." He paused. "Lady Eowyn and I helped her escape from the White City so she could return to her people. I still await news that she made it."  
  
Lothiriel understood then why he looked so sad. He was in love with the Haradrim woman. "She will find you someday, I am sure."  
  
"I hope so." Riordan breathed deeply. "But let us not dwell on the sad stories of the War, milady. I wanted to commend you on your fine dueling yesterday." Lothiriel blushed slightly, causing Riordan to smile. "It was a good alternative to the bloody duels your people take part in." This caused Lothiriel to blush even more.  
  
"Might I confide in you, Riordan?" she asked. He inclined his head. "I have never seen a duel in my home. My father would not let me go." She moved her head slightly out of the shadows, revealing her eye.  
  
Concern filled Riordan's hazel ones. "Milady, what happened to your eye?"  
  
"Oh, that?" She touched the tender spot softly. "I was teaching Eomer to use a glaive, but he hit me with it on accident. It doesn't hurt, but I suspect it looks terrible."  
  
"You may want to get some salve from the healer. Your family will think that someone had hit you." This new voice came from behind Lothiriel. She turned and gasped slightly. It was Eomer, dressed in breeches and a loose, unbuttoned tunic.  
  
"G-good morning," she stammered, her eyes never leaving his chiseled muscles.  
  
"Good morning to you," he replied. "Riordan." He nodded at his friend, who silently stood and left them alone. Eomer sat down and took her hand in his. "Would you take a walk with me?"  
  
"Certainly." They rose, and Eomer led her outside.  
  
"I could not stop thinking about you last night."  
  
"Nor I you," she whispered.  
  
He turned and looked at her. "Then you will be happy here, with me?"  
  
"Aye." Lothiriel spoke quietly. "I believe that I would be happy anywhere, so long as you are with me."  
  
"I am glad." He smiled. She was suddenly aware that they had walked to a secluded place by the city wall. "Lothiriel," he said, "you have made me the luckiest man alive." Eomer kissed her, echoing his pronouncement and causing her to nearly melt in his arms. If she had not known it before, Lothiriel knew now that she could indeed live the rest of her life beside this man.  
  
A/N (again): balrogthane, thank you (again) for telling me that it was odd when i'd said lothiriel was a clumsy oaf only to have her beat up eomer (hehe). i have come up with a solution, but it shall have to wait until the welcome feast in dol amroth. i know, i know, i can hear you all groaning, "not *another* feast! we've had two already!" but never fear, it shall be the last (at least until my next story...hehe). and besides, if it weren't for the feast in dol amroth, you'd never meet HIM....... 


	17. No Distance Can Lessen the Friendship

A/N: yes, yes, bad lsoa, for starting ANOTHER new story without finishing this one. i'm sorry! i couldn't help it! but hey, i might write faster if i get some reviews for the pyrate queen. *pouts* you don't even have to be that familiar with the play (because i went extremely au...let's face it, i can't write songs)! so to make you forgive me, i have decided to send them to dol amroth and let you meet HIM at last (at last they go, at last they go, at last they really really go!) (ok, i'll shut up now)........  
  
**disclaimer** i don't own any of this except my oc's! because if i owned anything else, i would be making money off it and i wouldn't have to worry about algebra or chemistry ever again!!!  
  
Chapter XVI  
  
April-May, T.A. 3021  
  
It was a total of about three days after Lothiriel made her pronouncement that they at last decided to leave for Dol Amroth. Lothiriel could hardly contain her excitement. After all, she hadn't seen her brothers in ten years. So the companions prepared to travel again, this time with an entourage of twenty riders and no plans to find a runaway princess.  
  
The evening before they left, Eomer asked Lothiriel to walk to the stables with him. She consented, and the two made their way down to the very place where they had held the duel. Eomer opened the gate to the stable and showed her in. "I wanted to give you something," he said.  
  
"And it couldn't be given to me in the hall?" asked Lothiriel, amusement in her voice.  
  
Eomer shook his head. "I don't think the nobility would have approved." Lothiriel was very relieved the light was dim, so he couldn't see her blush. Eomer took her hand and led her to a stall. She gasped audibly. In the stall, there was a golden mare. "Lothiriel, I would like you to meet Telan."  
  
"Hello, Telan," Lothiriel whispered. "She's beautiful," she said to Eomer.  
  
"She's yours."  
  
"You mean it?"  
  
"I do."  
  
Lothiriel's eyes lit up. "Oh thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" She immediately opened the door and went in. "You're absolutely gorgeous, my lovely," she cooed, rubbing the horse's neck. "Absolutely gorgeous...."  
  
************  
  
The next morning, twenty-three riders set out from Edoras for Estel's Gate. The week-long journey was a quiet one. Nothing out of the ordinary happened until after they reached the other side of the Gate. Upon exiting, Lothiriel gave a shout and raced Telan forward. Eomer came not far behind for there was a group of ten or fifteen riders waiting at the other side of the small valley.  
  
"Elphir! Is it truly you!?" cried Lothiriel as she jumped off her horse to greet the foremost rider in a fierce hug.  
  
"Aye, my sister!" He pulled back from her. "Lothiriel," he asked, his voice laced with concern, "what happened to your eye?"  
  
"Oh that?" She gestured toward the half-healed bruise around her eye. "It's nothing."  
  
Elphir leaned closer to her and whispered, "You haven't been beaten have you?"  
  
"Of course not! I was in a duel," she said dismissively.  
  
"With whom?"  
  
"Me." It was Eomer.  
  
"Valar, Eomer, what did you do to deserve such a fate?" Elphir laughed.  
  
"He insulted me. Told me I snored," Lothiriel sniffed. "Which I don't."  
  
Her elder brother raised an eyebrow at the two, but decided it was best he didn't know why Eomer had heard Lothiriel's snoring. Instead, he looked at his sister more closely. "Lothiriel, you've grown. Last time I saw you, you were still short enough to be used as an armrest."  
  
Lothiriel gave him a slight punch in the ribs. "You never used me as an armrest. You wouldn't have dared! I could have taken you easily."  
  
"Could not!" he exclaimed. "Your brain has become befuddled by the Elvish cordial. That was Erchirion that you kicked in the stomach so many times."  
  
"I suppose you're right. Oh well. But it's not the fault of the Elvish cordial, oh no. If anything, I have forgotten because of the Rohirric ale. It is very strong."  
  
Again, Elphir raised an eyebrow. "I'll take your word on it. In any case, I have a message for you."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Father wants me to escort you and your entourage to the city, where he and Mother await you. Once you have had a day of rest, we will have a feast in honor of your betrothal."  
  
"Sounds splendid," Eomer said. "Shall we go?"  
  
"Most certainly," Lothiriel replied. She remounted Telan and brought her up to where her brother rode with his captain.  
  
"Lady Lothiriel, I haven't seen you in an age," a voice from beside the princess exclaimed.  
  
She turned and gasped. "Sarn?" The man nodded. "Forgive me for doing so, but I'd nearly forgotten you!"  
  
The brown-haired man grinned. "No matter. What was Rivendell like? I have heard many tales of King Elessar's childhood home, but I wanted to hear about it from a lady I knew I could trust."  
  
Lothiriel smiled and launched into an animated discussion with her old friend about the ways of the Elves and her journeys through Middle Earth, completely oblivious to the scowls they were receiving from a certain Horse-lord.  
  
A/N (again): whew. so now that you've met HIM, i bet you're wondering how in the world he's going to cause problems for our two lovebirds. never fear, he's not as innocent as he seems....... 


	18. A Romantic Interlude

A/N: 14/04/04 i would like to dedicate it to fairion, my youth minister, and his wife, balaneth, who recently went through a miscarriage. the stuff with harrana and riordan is for them.  
  
**disclaimer** you know by now that i don't own any of this except for my oc's and ideas.  
  
Chapter XVII  
  
May, T.A. 3021  
  
The company of riders arrived in Dol Amroth a few days later. Lothiriel was surprised, for there were many dark-skinned people in the city, more than she remembered. She leaned over to Elphir and said, "Have we at last reached a truce with Harad?"  
  
He smiled grimly. "Nay. Not yet. One day, last fall, I suppose it was, three ships arrived at our bay. They bore the mark of Harad, the black lion. Their leader was a woman with a three-year-old boy. She said her name was Harrana--" Lothiriel gasped at this, recognizing the name immediately "-- and she asked that they might stay here to wait for the Rohirric lord and his bride. I do not know why, but I'm guessing that you do."  
  
"I don't know why, but I do know who she is. She is--or was--the lover of Riordan, one of Eomer's advisors. He's been waiting these past three years for word of her." Lothiriel sighed. "I suppose she's forgotten him by now if she has a child. I will go tell Eomer, so he can decide how to tell Riordan." She slowed her horse, waiting until Eomer fell into step with her.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked.  
  
"I thought you would want to know that Lady Harrana is here," she said quietly. "With her son. Elphir just told me that they arrived last fall with three ships of Haradrim to wait for us."  
  
"Does Riordan know?" he asked quickly.  
  
Lothiriel shook her head. "I don't think so." They rode the rest of the distance to the palace in silent thought, neither sure of how to break the news to their friend.  
  
************  
  
A group of nobility awaited the riders at the steps to the palace. Lothiriel immediately recognized her father and her other two brothers. Her father, Lord Imrahil, had nearly all-white hair now, and a silvery beard to match. He still had a look of youth about him, despite his aged appearance. Her brothers, Erchirion and Amrothos, looked slightly less-gangly than Lothiriel remembered them, and Amrothos now sported a short beard. Three ladies stood with them. One lady Lothiriel recognized as Lady Niphredil from Edhellond, Amrothos' wife. There was also a blonde-haired lady who had a little girl clinging to her skirt. Lothiriel assumed that she was Elphir's wife. This assumption was confirmed when the little girl ran up to Elphir crying, "Papa! Papa! You're home!"  
  
The third lady stayed in the shadows. Her hair was black as coal, as was her skin, and she had a mystical aura about her. She held a little boy in her arms. The boy fascinated Lothiriel. He seemed to be as dark as his mother, but his eyes were the color of sandalwood. The eyes of the Rohirrim. A slightly strangled cry came from behind Lothiriel.  
  
"Harrana!" It was Riordan. He immediately leapt off his horse and ran to the woman. "I thought I'd never see you again," he whispered, holding her tightly.  
  
"I told you I would come back," she said, tears in her dark eyes. The two stood in bliss, completely unaware that there were other people present. "And look," she said, pulling away from him, "I brought someone with me. Riordan, I want you to meet Kedar, our son." She handed the little boy to him.  
  
"Our son," he whispered. "You mean I'm a father?" She nodded. "I'm a father! Eomer, I'm a father!"  
  
Eomer smiled sheepishly. "Congratulations, Riordan. When's the wedding?"  
  
The bard laughed. "Soon, my friend, soon! But first, I must learn all that has taken place these past three years with my lady-love." He took Harrana's hand, and the two walked into the palace, together again at last.  
  
"Well, now that the long-lost lovers have been reunited, I'm glad you're back, Lothiriel." It was Imrahil who spoke.  
  
Lothiriel grinned and dismounted. "It feels wonderful to be near the sea again."  
  
"What about us?" asked Amrothos, mock pain seeping into his voice. "Didn't you miss your dear brothers?"  
  
"Oh, yes, I suppose I missed you, too," she said.  
  
"That's good," said Erchirion. "I can finally get married now."  
  
"You mean you waited all this time to get married because of me?" Lothiriel exclaimed, engulfing her middle brother in a hug.  
  
Erchirion coughed. "I seem to remember a certain younger sister threatening my manhood if I got married before she came back from the Elf Haven."  
  
"Oh, that's right! Now I remember!" Lothiriel smiled sweetly up at him. "I suppose you can get married now."  
  
"Well I'm glad that's cleared up, then," laughed Erchirion. "I'll be sure to go find a lady to marry."  
  
Lothiriel laughed as well, and the siblings went inside, the other nobility following them.  
  
************  
  
Her rooms were much the same as they were ten years earlier, Lothiriel mused as she unpacked her belongings from Rivendell. Nothing had really changed. At least not at first glance. And yet, everything was different. Two of her brothers were married and had children, and she was preparing to marry as well. The War had taken a toll on all of her family. The greying hair of her eldest brother was one indicator of that, as were the wrinkles around her father's eyes.  
  
Someone knocked at the door. "Who is it?" Lothiriel called.  
  
"It's me," Mista said, entering. "Your father wants you downstairs for the evening meal." She flopped on the bed. "It's strange being home, isn't it?"  
  
"I was just thinking the same thing," replied Lothiriel. "Everything seems the same and completely different all at once. I don't think I'll ever get used to it."  
  
"You won't have time to. You're getting married, remember?"  
  
Lothiriel sighed. "Yes, I know."  
  
"You'll be happy in Rohan, I promise. You like Eomer well enough. And even if you didn't, you'd be able to beat him if he tried anything." Mista grinned. "Come on, let's get some food. I'm starved."  
  
************  
  
The meal that evening was relatively quiet. Lothiriel was seated between Lady Niphredil and Lady Rona, her brothers' wives. Eomer was on the other side of the table, with the three brothers and Sarn. Neither enjoyed themselves. Rona and Niphredil tried their best to make small talk, but Lothiriel was tired and made no effort to reply. Eomer, on the other hand, was forced to listen to Amrothos and Sarn debate about creating faster ships, a craft that he had no interest in whatsoever, seeing as how he had only seen the ocean from a distance (the fact that sarn was taking part in the debate did not improve eomer's mood either). The only person out of the travelers from Rohan that seemed to be enjoying himself was Riordan. He was playing with his son and enjoyed every moment of it.  
  
At last, Imrahil decided to end the dinner with an announcement. "Tomorrow evening," he said, rising from his seat, "I would like to invite everyone to a ball in honor of the betrothal of my daughter, Lothiriel, and Eomer of Rohan. Now, I shall let you all take your leave so you may rest for tomorrow's festivities. Good eve to you all!"  
  
A/N (again): urk. that was a bad chapter, but i had to have some kind of transition from their arrival to the party. and i also wanted to get the harrana/riordan spoiler in there. up next: more beer, more fluff (though between whom has yet to be decided), and more HIM (you thought i'd forget to cause problems, didn't you? admit it, you did.)........ 


	19. An Act of Diplomacy

A/N: yes, yes, bad lsoa for not updating ANYTHING. but i have a valid excuse: i marched at disney last saturday (24/04/04). plus, i've had really major writer's block. on both of my stories. especially the other one. i'd appreciate it if you would read it and give me suggestions on where to go (after you read this, of course). please? *makes puppy-dog eyes*  
  
**disclaimer** oh how i wish i owned eomer. but unfortunately, i do not. so i must write about him falling in love with a woman who is not like me in any way, form, or fashion (except that she is in love with eomer).  
  
Chapter XVIII  
  
May, T.A. 3021  
  
The ball was quite amazing to Eomer. He had never seen anything like it. Not in Rohan, not in Rivendell, and most certainly not in Minas Tirith, where the festivals and banquets were more formal than the Rohirric funerals. This was completely different from everything he had ever encountered. For one thing, it had started in the late afternoon rather than the evening. Lothiriel told him that it was because the fishermen had to set sail in accordance with the tides. "It would not do to set sail in shallow tide; the boats would get stuck in the sands beneath the waters," she had said. Eomer had given her a confused look, to which she replied, "I will show you what I mean in the morning. We will go to sea then. For now, let us enjoy the night!"  
  
And so he was enjoying it thoroughly. The lower classes of the pearly city danced alongside Lothiriel and her brothers, apparently unconcerned that they were among nobility. Eomer was glad for this dismissal of the class system; it would make life in Rohan easier for his bride-to-be. Not that she would ever have trouble fitting in. She had already succeeded in garnering the respect of his soldiers when she had trounced him in the dueling ring. He smiled.  
  
"Something pleases you, my friend?" Eomer was shaken from his thoughts by a voice. He turned. It was Erchirion who was holding two goblets of wine.  
  
"I was thinking of your sister," he answered.  
  
"Ah." The prince smiled and handed the king a goblet. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" He indicated where Lothiriel, wearing a long green skirt with a white blouse, danced alongside some boys from the city. Sarn was with her, the young king noted.  
  
"Aye," Eomer replied, sipping his wine. "Your customs are different from any I have ever seen. They are not nearly so dismal as those in Minas Tirith."  
  
"Of course not! We were never governed by Stewards!" Erchirion laughed. Then his voice grew serious. "But honestly, I think that in a city where one's life and livelihood depend solely upon the whims of Ulmo, one cannot be too serious when given the chance to celebrate. Besides, we have not had quite so many sorrows bestowed upon us by the Enemy." Eomer could see the prince's eyes darken. "I think the Dark Lord believed that once Minas Tirith fell, we would be an easy target. He was wrong, but I suppose it no longer matters, does it?" Erchirion turned back toward the king. "But we should not dwell upon the past. Let us instead enjoy the festivities!" He drained his goblet and stepped into the dance. Eomer soon followed suit, joining hands with a maid from the city and, to his surprise, Lady Harrana.  
  
"Milord, it has been several years since I spoke to you last, has it not?" the Haradrim lady asked.  
  
"Aye," he replied. "I trust you returned to your people safely?"  
  
"I did indeed." She briefly related all that had happened since she had last seen the king in the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith. "...And so, Kedar and I lived in my father's house until last winter when I learned that you would be coming here. We left almost immediately. I knew Riordan would be with you."  
  
Eomer smiled. "He traveled throughout Gondor for news of you for nearly three years. I think he had almost given up on ever finding you again. I tried to convince him to travel to Harad, but he would not. He said you would come to Gondor if you wanted to see him again."  
  
"I would have come sooner, but I was unable to do so." The song ended, and the two began to walk away from the center of the hall. The dark lady looked up at him. "I suppose it matters no longer. We are together again, though what I shall do after you leave for Rohan, I do not know."  
  
"You will not come with us?" Eomer asked, leading Harrana towards the refreshments  
  
She shook her head. "I cannot. I am the only heir to my father's seat. If I do not take my rightful place on the throne, my country will go to ruins. I cannot allow that to happen."  
  
Eomer nodded in understanding. "Then I suppose Riordan will have to go with you. I do not think I could stand to see him mope around Edoras any more. If any questions are asked, I will say that he is my ambassador to your people. That will silence my advisors."  
  
"I thank you," Harrana said. "You and your sister have shown me many kindnesses. I only hope that someday I shall be able to do the same."  
  
"Actually, there is something you could do for me." Eomer leaned down and whispered in her ear.   
  
The Haradrim grinned. "I will do my best."  
  
************  
  
A/N: eeps! this is an extremely short chapter! but, i just got over an extra-horrible bout of writer's block (you know, the kind that comes right after a really big inspiration). sorry it's so short, but next up, you'll get to see what our young rulers (the king of rohan and the lady of harad) have in store for the rest of the nobility (as soon as i figure out what it is...). i think erchirion's my favorite of lothiriel's brothers...he's the middle child, so he always gets forgotten...and the original title of my story was "forgotten lovers," so i suppose the forgotten part carries over to any other characters left out of the movies..lol. this was a loooong a/n. stay tuned for next time! same horse-time, same horse-channel! 


	20. Dancing the Night Away

A/N: grins no better cure for writer's block than getting good reviews..lol. and today i have some personalized replies! i never write individual replies (usually because i'm too lazy). go me!  
  
first off, CONGRATULATIONS ADNAREL!!! you are my 100th reviewer! go you!  
  
balrogthane: as always, you cause me to slap my head in my stupidity. i figured out a way around it (and lothiriel being clumsy in the chapter before the duel), though, and all shall be revealed (corrected) in this chapter.......  
  
calime: thankies muchly for the anti-writer's-block dust! hopefully it'll last for awhile.  
  
lotr-nutcase: you're right on two accounts (sort of...). i had a blast at disney, and you'll see what happens with the secret plan soon.  
  
now, on to the disclaimer!  
  
disclaimer: fill in the blanks! once upon a time, there was a . she liked to . unfortunately, her passion was , king of , and he was already taken. so, she began to write about the king of and his beautiful wife, , princess of . she posted it on , where she would not get into over copyright laws. the end.

* * *

Chapter XIX  
  
May, T.A. 3021  
  
Lothiriel found Eomer sitting at one of the tables on the outskirts of the hall. He was watching the dancers and didn't notice her until she put her hands on his shoulders. "You do not dance," she whispered. "Why not?"  
  
He looked up at her. "Maybe because the only woman I want to dance with is standing behind me."  
  
Lothiriel grinned and looked over her shoulder. "Where? I don't see anyone...." She gasped dramatically. "You can't mean me!" she cried, her eyes dancing with laughter.  
  
"Who else?" Eomer stood, taking her hand. "Would you give me the honor of dancing with you?" he asked.  
  
"Of course." They stepped onto the dance floor. The song was neither slow nor fast. "A two-step," Lothiriel whispered. "My favorite." She lightly guided Eomer through the other dancers, humming along with the music. The song ended and gave way to a second: a reel. Eomer and Lothiriel wove in and out along with the rest of the revelers. They danced together for several more songs, until at last, they were both out of breath.  
  
"Shall we get some fresh air?" asked Eomer. Lothiriel nodded. They walked outside to the moonlit balcony. "I thought you said you couldn't dance." Eomer leaned against the railing.  
  
"When did I say that?"  
  
"In Edoras. Remember? I tried to get you to dance numerous times, but you said you were too clumsy and you had to get drunk to dance correctly. Of course, you proceeded to almost fall over when I finally got you to dance, and then you ended up snoring in my lap," he said, humor filling his voice.  
  
Lothiriel grinned at him. "I don't remember that at all. And you should have expected it. I'm a diplomatic liar."  
  
"How's that?" he laughed.  
  
She shrugged. "I lie when it best suits my purposes. If you haven't noticed, people will tell you anything if they think it will get them out of doing something they don't want to do."  
  
"Believe me, I've noticed."  
  
"Of course, you're a liar, too," she said. "Or at least, you're just as bad as a liar."  
  
"You wound me, my dear," Eomer said, putting his hands over his chest in mock-pain.  
  
"I know very well that you were one of the few men who survived the Pelennor with nary a scratch."  
  
"And how does that make me a liar?" he asked, stepping toward her.  
  
"I did not say you were a liar, only that you are as bad as one." She turned away from him and began to walk away.  
  
Eomer followed her. "Well then, how does that make me as bad as a liar?"  
  
"You let me trounce you the day of the duel," she continued. "You and I know very well that I could never really defeat you in a match, no matter what kind of training the Elves gave me." She turned, crossed her arms, and half-glared at him. "Why did you let me?"  
  
Eomer sighed. "It's actually quite simple, really. I couldn't very well defeat you: that would make me un-chivalrous in front of my people, not to mention make you very upset with me. Besides, I didn't want to kiss you in front of all those people."  
  
Lothiriel's stomach seemed to drop. "Why not?"  
  
"Because," Eomer whispered, backing her into a dimly-lit alcove, "I couldn't do this." He leaned in and kissed her soundly. Lothiriel gasped and returned the kiss just as forcefully. Neither seemed to want it to stop until Eomer's hands began to roam. Lothiriel immediately pushed him away.  
  
"Stop."  
  
"What's wrong?" he whispered, his voice ragged.  
  
"We can't," she whispered back. "Not yet. It wouldn't be right."  
  
Eomer sighed audibly. "I suppose you are right." He kissed her on the forehead. "Goodnight, my lady. I will see you in the morning."  
  
"Goodnight," she whispered in return and watched him retreat back to the party. She sank to the ground, unbidden tears in her eyes. She sat for a long while, listening to the sounds of the people and music fade into silence as the ball drew to a close. She heard the servants follow the last of the guests out, dousing the torches in water as they went. Silently, she rose and walked to her room, ignorant of the noiseless shadow that followed her.  
  
As she reached the door, an arm grabbed Lothiriel's shoulder. The princess turned, frightened. "I am sorry, milady, I didna mean to frighten you," said Lady Harrana. "I merely wanted to ask if you woulda be interested in having a picnic lunch on the beach tomorrow."  
  
Lothiriel smiled. "That sounds wonderful."  
  
"I'll see you at breakfast then?"  
  
The princess nodded. "At breakfast." With that, she opened her door and went inside.  
  
Harrana turned away, grinning. Lothiriel had not asked who else was coming.

* * *

A/N: w00t! another chapter! and THE PLAN is set in motion...what follows will be one of the last rising actions before the CLIMAX. which means that the story shall be ending relatively soon. sigh it's been some good times so far. and no worries, all of the plotlines will be concluded (and tied together) by the end of it all (with the exception of maybe two). now, the lady scribe wonders if the balrog is happy with how she fixed her inconsistencies. 


	21. Conspiracies Unmasked, Secrets Revealed

A/N: somehow you people have gotten it into your heads that there are like two chapters left. well, you would be incorrect, because there are at least five more running around in my head (need i remind you we have not reached the climax?), and that doesn't include the THREE companion stories. i mean, i've barely breached the subject of harrana and riordan, not to mention how the heck lothiriel ended up in rivendell in the first place. and wouldn't you like to know what happened to their kids? so yeah, i have enough ideas for several more chapters and then some. oh yeah, CONGRATULATIONS, EOKAT!!! you were reviewer 111...a number that i enjoy muchly..lol.  
  
balrogthane: ::makes deep, sweeping bow worthy of philostrate the faerie:: i seriously blushed at your compliment. thankies again for catching those mistakes...i'd never have caught them myself.  
  
::disclaimer:: i used to use asteriks, but now i must resort to colons because i'm too poor to buy asteriks (colons are sooo much cheaper). anyways, don't sue me for borrowing eomer, you won't get any money, and i'll eventually return him to lothiriel relatively unharmed (hehe).  
  
  
  
Chapter XX  
  
May, T.A. 3021  
  
Lothiriel awoke to the sounds of muffled laughter. It was too light to be any of her brothers or Eomer, but not heavy enough to be that of a mature woman. Sleepily, the princess opened one eye and looked around. She smiled when she saw two children, one dark-skinned and small, the other much fairer and slightly older, watching her. Kedar, she thought, and Balaneth, Elphir's daughter.  
  
"Papa said we were to wake our aunty," said Balaneth. She giggled. "He didn't tell us that you would snore."  
  
"Unca wanted us to pour water on you, Aunty," whispered the dark little boy in his thick Haradi accent, "but Mama said you wouldna like that. She said it wasna nice to wash princesses."  
  
Lothiriel sat up in bed, laughing despite herself. "Your mama is right, Kedar. It's not nice to wash princesses. Especially while they're asleep. I'm glad you didn't listen to mean old Uncle Elphir."  
  
"Oh, it wasna Unca Elphir, Aunty," said Kedar, wide-eyed. "It was Unca Eomer." Lothiriel had noticed over the past few days that Harrana's little boy called all of the adults of the Amrothian nobility either "Unca" or "Aunty." She guessed that it stemmed from her niece's influence and was slightly surprised that both children had already carried it over to Eomer and herself.  
  
Balaneth nodded solemnly. "He said that he would give you a bath, but Papa wouldn't let him. He said Uncle Eomer wasn't allowed."  
  
"Oh really?" asked Lothiriel, an eyebrow raised. "Well, we'll just have to punish Uncle Eomer, won't we?" The children grinned and nodded.  
  
"Can we put him in a corner?" asked Balaneth excitedly.  
  
"Or lock him in the highest tower?" Kedar's eyes were a-glow at the thought.  
  
Lothiriel smiled. "I tell you what. Why don't you two let me get dressed, and then we'll decide on the proper punishment over breakfast. How does that sound?" The children nodded again and ran out the door, planning elaborate punishments for their wayward uncle.  
  
  
  
Kedar and Balaneth were not the only ones present at breakfast. Elphir was doing his best to control the wild children. He was relatively unsuccessful. In stark contrast, Amrothos and his expecting wife, Nimrodel, sat talking quietly. Eomer sat with Harrana and Riordan, who were apparently unconcerned that their son was running around like a wild-man. Lothiriel decided to sit with these three.  
  
"Good morning, Harrana, Riordan." She nodded to them, seating herself beside Eomer. "Master Horse-lord," she said, turning to him, "I understand that you instructed my lovely niece and little Kedar to give me a bath this morning."  
  
"I said no such thing!" exclaimed Eomer. Riordan snorted into his breakfast.  
  
"He lies, milady. I heard him say that you loved to be awoken by a bucket of water over your head in the morning!" Riordan grinned at Eomer's incredulous expression.  
  
"I swear to you, my lady, I would never dream of telling children such lies!"  
  
"Oh but I think you would indeed," replied the princess. "I would not put it past you, in any case. Pass the porridge?"  
  
Eomer complied, while Riordan excused himself to fetch Kedar who was currently sporting porridge in his hair.  
  
Lothiriel heaped porridge on her plate, talking to Harrana all the while. "When should we go riding?" she asked.  
  
"Meet in the stables at eleven?" Lothiriel's head was down, so she did not see the curt nod from Eomer to Harrana.  
  
"Sounds wonderful," Lothiriel replied. "I'll see you then."  
  
  
  
But Lothiriel did not see Harrana at eleven. In fact, the only person who was even near the stables at that time was Eomer. As the princess came down the walkway, he exited the stables, leading Firefoot and Telan, both saddled and ready. "Where is Harrana?" Lothiriel asked suspiciously.  
  
"Oh, she was called away unexpectedly. Something about Kedar and Balaneth setting up a trap in one of the guestrooms. They apparently put a bucket of water above the door so that when someone walked in, they would get soaked. I feel rather sorry for the chambermaid. Although, I'm not entirely sure how they managed to put a bucket above the door; they're only three feet tall." He grinned at her.  
  
Lothiriel feigned innocence. "Those children are amazing," she said, taking Telan's reins from the king. "Now, where are we headed?"  
  
"The beach," he replied, climbing onto his horse. "I've never seen it up close."  
  
"The beach it is." Lothiriel mounted Telan and immediately kicked her heels into the horse's sides. Eomer grinned and followed close behind.  
  
  
  
"You and Harrana planned this, didn't you?" Lothiriel asked, taking another sip of her cheery cordial.  
  
"Yes and no. We had actually planned for the others to come, but as you could see at breakfast, Harrana and Riordan were otherwise occupied, and Erchirion and Mista were still, um, sleeping. It would seem that they were very--" he coughed, "--busy last night."  
  
Lothiriel laughed. "I never would have believed they'd resort to that! Of course, I didn't think they'd still be together after all these years either. I suppose I should have known better than to make them promi--what?" She had turned to Eomer only to find a very perplexed look on his face.  
  
"What are you talking about, 'all these years' and 'make them promise'?"  
  
"It's quite simple really," Lothiriel began. "When I was fifteen and Mista was sixteen and Erchirion was nineteen, they began courting. Actually, they had liked each other before that, but Mista was too young, so Erchirion waited until she was of age to begin courting her. I think they would have married as soon as Mista turned sixteen, but Papa told Erchirion that he had to follow through with the whole courting procedure, which meant he was required to wait an entire year before proposing and then wait another year after the official engagement before they could wed. They went back and forth for a while in the most terrible rows, but finally Erchirion relented. What he didn't count on was what happened next." She took another swig of her drink.  
  
"And what was that, my lovely?"  
  
"I was sent to Rivendell," she replied bluntly. "But before I left, I made both Mista and Erchirion promise not to get married until I returned. You see, I thought I would only be gone for a year or so; instead, I was gone for ten. Obviously, they are unmarried but have taken what liberties they will. I suspect Papa made them wait the initial year of courting before allowing them to find the way into each other's beds, but after the engagement was announced, no one would have really paid much attention." Lothiriel laughed. "I wonder if they'll ever marry now. They've been sharing a bed for nine years!"  
  
A smile crept across Eomer's face. "Does this mean, Lothiriel, that what you said last night was a lie?"  
  
"If you are referring to that alcove, then yes. Remember, I told you I was a diplomatic liar."  
  
"Then you and I could...?" He let the question hang in the air.  
  
"In theory, yes. In reality, no."  
  
"And why is that?"  
  
"Several reasons. Number one, we hardly know each other. Need I remind you that we met only six months ago? We haven't even officially courted! Number two, the stakes are too high. I am a princess, you are a king. What if I became pregnant? It would look bad for both of us. Not to mention, Papa would kill us both if he found out."  
  
"Yes, but we'll be married in two weeks anyway. Surely no one would notice if the child were born a little earlier than expected."  
  
"Ha!" Lothiriel exclaimed. "You obviously don't know anything about Amrothian healers. They can take one look at a girl's face and know if she's with child." That was a complete lie, but there was absolutely no reason for Eomer to know that.  
  
Eomer sighed. "Very well then," he conceded at last, "we will wait."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
  
  
A/N (again): if you've been reading my troy fic, you'll know that i promised to update this before i left for canada. and lookie! i have! lol..i rather like this diplomatic lying of lothiriel's. it comes in handy when in sticky situations...i may have to use it in another fic somewhere...hm! an idea! up next: a walk on the beach, a tussle in the sand, and soon, lies that are darker than "amrothian healers can tell if someone's pregnant just by looking at them" (which isn't really a lie if you think about it, b/c i'm sure everyone starts noticing once you're in your sixth month or so)....... 


	22. Through the Shadows Have I Wandered

A/N: i have finally returned from the dark abyss of the triangle of doom (aka the bermuda triangle) and now i can at last try to update. and to compensate for the long wait, i have taken what could have been two short chapters and turned them into one long one. i actually have most of the last chapters written, but now i must go through the tiresome task of typing it all into cohesive chapters ('tis the same situation with my troy story, for those of you who have been reading it). anyways, thankies muchly for all your reviews, as long as you keep reading, i'll keep writing (who am i kidding? i'll keep writing even if you don't review! but reviews are nice, even if they're mean)!  
  
::disclaimer:: if i owned any of this, you wouldn't be able to see it yet, because i'd have to wait until i was finished writing it to get it published. as it is, i get to torture everyone with my plot twists and long waits between updates. hehe.....  
  
  
  
Chapter XXI  
  
May, T.A. 3021  
  
As the afternoon grew older, Eomer and Lothiriel decided to walk along the beach. The tide was flowing in, washing the sand from beneath their bare feet. Lothiriel took a deep breath and stopped to look out at the horizon. "I will miss the salt air," she told Eomer.  
  
He turned to her, stopping as well. "You can visit it any time you wish, my love."  
  
"Yes, but it won't be the same. The sea changes every time you see it."  
  
Eomer raised his eyebrows. "Does it?"  
  
"Yes. It's been ten years since I left my home, but I can still see the ocean exactly the way it was. It's different now. More peaceful. As though Lord Ulmo has blessed the world with smoother waters now that the War has ended. A good change." She smiled at him, though sorrow filled her eyes. "Not all change is good, though."  
  
Eomer stepped closer. "Isn't it?" He moved to grab her waist, but Lothiriel pulled away.  
  
"Not always. Anger and hate lead to bad changes." Lothiriel began to walk as she spoke, doing her best to keep ahead of the Rohirric lord--and out of his reach. "Take the reasons behind the War, for example. Had the Dark Lord not been filled with such hate for Men and Elves, much of what has happened this age would not have occurred."  
  
"Those may have been bad changes at first," replied Eomer, keeping pace with the princess, "but we would not be together were it not for the War." He shuddered with the sudden realization that it was quite possible that Theodred would be Lothiriel if he had lived through the War. Her beauty would have still graced the halls of Meduseld, but in the arms of another man.  
  
Lothiriel kept walking, unaware that Eomer had stopped. She was doing her best to stay aloof until the wedding, but his constant nearness was beginning to wear away her resolve. There would be plenty of time for the two to be lovers afterward, she told herself. It was hard, though: she could barely stop herself from kissing him there on the beach, where they were alone. Lothiriel paused for a moment. Eomer had not caught up with her which was very uncharacteristic of him. She was turning around when she heard a great shout. Lothiriel turned completely just in time to be knocked over by Eomer's hulking frame. He immediately began to kiss every piece of exposed skin on her body.  
  
Lothiriel laughed. "Eomer!" she shrieked. "Stop it! Ooh! that tickles!" She shivered as he kissed her neck, each brush of his lips sending explosions of heat up her spine.  
  
"I," he said amid the kisses, "love you. I...adore you...like no other. You--" he ceased his kisses for a moment to look her in the eye "--fill my life with joy beyond belief. I love you, Lothiriel. Deeply and truly, I can--and will--spend the rest of my days with no other."  
  
His words sobered Lothiriel quickly. She sat up, tears welling in her eyes. She turned away, but Eomer saw the hurt behind her smile this time. He pulled away, silently cursing himself for being too forward. "Have I offended you, my lady?" he asked, not sure that he wanted to hear her answer.  
  
"No."  
  
"Then what is wrong?" He looked at her intently.  
  
"Eomer, I love you, too, but...." she paused a moment, considering her next words. "We must wait," she said at last. "You know it as well as I. It doesn't matter for Erchirion, who is a second son marrying a merchant's daughter. But it does matter for us. You are a king, and I am the only daughter of a prince. We must wait. And you must stop tempting me," she laughed, though tears filled her voice for some unidentified reason. "If you keep kissing me like that, I don't think I'll be able to hold you off." The moment she said these words, Lothiriel knew she'd made a mistake, for a mischievous grin had begun to spread across Eomer's face. "Don't look at me like that," she snapped.  
  
"Like what?" he asked, grinning wider.  
  
"Like you're going to eat me."  
  
"Lothiriel, why would I eat you?"  
  
This caught the princess off guard. "Because you are a scoundrel," she said and threw a clod of sand at him.  
  
"Now that's not fair!" he cried, wiping sand from his eyes. He opened them, only to see that Lothiriel had taken off back toward their picnic grounds. "Come back here!"  
  
Laughing, the princess called behind her. "Never! You'll have to catch me first!"  
  
Eomer sighed and lifted himself up from the ground. He gave chase, following Lothiriel as she ran back to the blanket with the food. She swung up into Telan's saddle, heading for the path they had used that morning. Eomer at last reached the picnic grounds. Lothiriel had kindly left him the food basket and the blanket. He sighed again and began to gather the leftovers into the basket. He strapped it to Firefoot's saddle and slowly made his way up to the city.  
  
  
  
"Lothiriel!" She turned at the sound of Sarn's voice. He ran to her. "How are you today, my lady?" he asked, matching her stride as she led Telan through the crowded market.  
  
"Well, thank you, though the excitement of next week has me giddier than I have been in years. And you?"  
  
"Well enough. Lothiriel, I have a matter of utmost importance I must discuss with you."  
  
"Discuss away," she said, waving her hand.  
  
"I saw you with Lord Eomer today on the beach," he blurted. "I was walking on the city walls and saw him accost you. I would have come to your aid, but you escaped him. Lothiriel, I don't want you to marry him, not after that display."  
  
Lothiriel would have laughed, but she saw that her friend was serious. "It was nothing to worry about, I assure you. Eomer just, well, the wait is taxing him, I think."  
  
"I still would not have you marry him."  
  
"Who would you have me marry, then?"  
  
"Me." Lothiriel stopped walking. Sarn gulped and continued, "I love you, Lothiriel."  
  
She turned to him, her brow furrowed slightly. "How do you love me, Sarn?"  
  
"I love you as the dolphins love the sea, and the swans the sky. Were you not to marry Lord Eomer, I would have asked for your hand ages ago."  
  
"How long ago?"  
  
Sarn walked closer to her. "Before you left for Rivendell."  
  
Confusion swept across Lothiriel's face. "But I was not betrothed to him then."  
  
"I would have asked for your hand then, but I was a lowly sailor. I wanted to be a captain before I asked for your hand." He laughed bitterly. "It seems I waited too long."  
  
"Oh, Sarn!" she cried and hugged him. "I am sorry. You were honest with me, so I shall be honest with you. Had you told me this before Rivendell--yea, even just a few months ago, in March--I would have married you and left Eomer to do what he will. But now, Sarn, now I will not, for I do not--nay, I cannot--love you. Not the way you love me. I love you as I do my brothers. My heart is elsewhere, with the very man whose name I cursed so many months ago. It can never be given to you."  
  
Her words cut Sarn deeply. "He is a lucky man, the one who holds your heart."  
  
"Yes." She smiled.  
  
Sarn sighed. "Then I suppose I can only give you my blessing. May your life be long and full of love, Lothiriel. May your future be bright as the stars of Varda." And when he had finished speaking, he kissed Lothiriel on the lips to seal the blessing.  
  
"May Ulmo grant you fair sailing, and may you have the peace of the world," she said, returning the blessing and the kiss as custom dictated. She smiled sweetly at her old friend. "Now, Sarn, I need your help. I am looking for a gift."  
  
"What kind of a gift, Lothiriel?" he asked, bemused, and glad that she had handled his confession well.  
  
"A special kind, a secret surprise. The best kind!" she exclaimed, and the two wandered through the market together just as they had ten years earlier, neither aware of the dark eyes that had seen their embrace.  
  
  
  
A/N (again): and now at last we see the turning of the tide, the beginning of the destruction of the ONE who would separate our fair lovers. the dark eyes have seen, and none shall withstand the bitter anger that will soon sweep across the land. no one, not even the fairest swan of amroth........ 


	23. The Agony of an Instant

A/N: well, i was fortunate enough to receive an extremely detailed review which has prompted me to think about making a couple changes in my story. i replaced chapter one, but you need not go back and reread it...i just took out a couple sentences and added a new one. also, i have noticed that the emotions of my characters have been, well, unapparent, so i am going to make a conscious effort to fix that. please help me by letting me know if i do it well.  
  
::disclaimer:: i don't own any of it. if you haven't learned that by now, you must not have read my disclaimers.  
  
  
  
Chapter XXII  
  
May, T.A. 3021  
  
Eomer was not at dinner that night. Lothiriel was upset, for she had hoped to give him the gift she and Sarn had found at the market. It was a dagger, overlaid with mithril, with a hilt in the likeness of a swan. Sarn had actually found it, but they both agreed that it would suit Eomer perfectly. "It is a gift worthy of your betrothed," Sarn had said, with a slightly pained smile.  
  
"Aye," she had replied. "I hope he will appreciate it."  
  
But alas, Eomer had not come to the meal. Lothiriel sat at the table, dejectedly picking at her food until enough time had passed that she was able to leave without insulting anyone. She excused herself immediately and went to her room. He had not come to dinner, and she felt slighted. She yanked a brush through her hair, but abandoned it quickly. She threw the brush down, restless, but unable to do anything. At last, she decided to go on to bed.  
  
She would speak to Eomer in the morning.  
  
  
  
Lothiriel was a liar. A real one. Eomer was upset, for he had truly believed that she loved him. Had she not said so that afternoon? But then he had seen her with that tronking sailor Sarn. They had kissed! Twice! In the center of the marketplace! He was furious and had every right to be, he reasoned. Lothiriel had lied to him.  
  
His blood boiled at that truth. He paced in his room, unsure of what to do. It was too late to go to Lothiriel and cancel the wedding tonight. Eomer sighed. There was nothing he could do for now, except go to bed.  
  
He would speak with Lothiriel in the morning.  
  
  
  
Lothiriel awoke to the sound of someone pounding on the door. "Just a minute!" she called as she threw on a robe. She opened the door. "Eomer! What are you doing here?"  
  
"Lothiriel, we must talk," he replied icily.  
  
She wrapped her robe more tightly around her. "Let me get dressed, and I'll be with you in a moment, alright?"  
  
"If that is what you wish."  
  
Lothiriel shut the door behind her, disturbed by the tone of Eomer's voice. He had not spoken to her like that since he had taken her from Bree. Something was troubling him for certain, but what, she had no idea. Maybe he was just tired, she decided, though deep down she knew that wasn't true. She finished braiding her hair, tied it, and was ready. She opened the door to Eomer's unsmiling face again and said, "You wanted to talk with me?"  
  
"Yes." His face was stony. "Outside."  
  
"All right." Lothiriel followed in silence half a step behind Eomer as he walked through the corridors. She knew it would be impossible to get him to say anything until they had arrived at their destination--wherever that was.  
  
It turned out that their destination was the same beach they had been the day before. Eomer stopped suddenly and spun around, causing Lothiriel to crash into him and land on the ground. "You lied," he said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You lied to me. You said you loved me. You let me kiss you. And then you go to that mangy sailor of yours and kiss him. Twice! In the middle of the market!" Eomer began to pace, his anger building.  
  
Lothiriel gasped. He meant Sarn and the blessings...he had seen? "Eomer, no, I can explain--"  
  
"Don't. I don't want to know. But tell me, princess," he said, mockery and anger seeping into his voice like venom, "if he has your heart, why do you not wed him?"  
  
"He--I--Eomer, will you just listen to me for a moment!? Sarn told me something yesterday, and I feel you should know. He asked me...he wanted me to marry him, but I said no."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I am to marry you," she answered, hoping that was enough to slake his fury.  
  
"So you will wed me," Eomer stated. "A second-hand choice because the one you truly love is not royal enough. Agh! Lothiriel, I thought you were above that! Were you not a lady, and had I a weapon, I would put a sword through your heart! One week--one, single week hence we are to wed, and now I learn that you do not love me! One week!" he shouted at her.  
  
"No, Eomer, that's not what I meant. Please," she pleaded, "let me explain. You don't understand, it--"  
  
"I don't understand?" he echoed. His eyes flashed dangerously, and Lothiriel wondered if he would strike her."You kiss a man in the middle of the market, and you say I don't understand? What is there to understand? I saw him kiss you and you kiss him. There is nothing else that needs to be explained. You are sadly mistaken, madame, if you thought you could have lovers on the side. Goodbye, princess." Eomer began to walk back to the city.  
  
"Eomer, wait! Where are you going?" she called after him, struggling to get up. He stopped, turned, and walked back to where she stood.  
  
"Home," he spat. "To Rohan. Where the women do not lie to those that love them."  
  
  
  
A/N (again): and so the destruction is complete. the lord of horses has fled the side of the swan of amroth. never again shall they come together. never again shall they touch lips. never again shall either know happiness. oh, a more bitter parting has never been seen! 


	24. On the Road Again

A/N: after much whining and a little freaking out, i have decided no more cheesy cryptic messages. fine. be that way. lol..yeah, that last one was pretty bad. oh well, too late now, because i am lazy. btw, arwen elf, i promise that there ::will:: be a bath-esque musing on both their parts, just not in this chapter. i wanted to focus more on the actions rather than the emotions that trigger them (hopefully their emotions are made apparent through their actions). and yes, calime is right! fear the wrath of eomer! of course, i guess lothiriel doesn't really have to now, because he's gone. sigh oh, right...on to the story!  
  
::disclaimer:: i own nothing except for mista, sarn, harrana, riordan (wow, that's a lot of people i didn't realize i owned) and the personalities of everyone else. deal with it.  
  
  
  
Chapter XXIII  
  
May, T.A. 3021  
  
Lothiriel did not return to the city until after she saw dirt and sand from a lone rider rising on the road to Rohan. She had no wish to encounter Eomer ever again--not after what had just happened. She entered the city through a small side entrance anyway, just to be certain that he was gone.  
  
"Care to explain why the man you're supposed to marry in seven days is muttering curses aimed at you and riding to Rohan?" inquired a voice from the corner of the walls. "It takes five days on a fast horse without rest to get from here to there," Mista said, emerging from the shadows. "He'll be late for his own wedding."  
  
"What wedding?" asked Lothiriel, fresh tears coursing down her cheeks.  
  
Concern flashed through Mista's face, "What happened?"  
  
"Not here," Lothiriel choked out. "The gardens."  
  
Mista took her friend's arm and guided her to the private gardens in silence. It had always been their secluded place; many secrets had been shared there in younger years. Mista found a bench and bade Lothiriel to sit. "Now tell me what happened."  
  
Lothiriel sighed heavily and wiped her face with her sleeve. "He saw me with Sarn. We were kissing." Mista looked at her friend, not sure of what to say. "It was an exchange of blessings, nothing else," she continued. "He wished me a happy marriage; I wished him fair sailing. Eomer must have been too far from us to hear what we were saying. He just saw the kisses and assumed the worst."  
  
"But didn't you explain this to him?" asked Mista.  
  
"I tried, but he was so angry." Lothiriel told Mista what had happened since the picnic on the beach, including everything from Eomer's steady stream of kisses to finding the gift in the market to Eomer's insensate anger. "I just didn't know what to do. The only man I've ever fallen in love with, and I made him despise me." Tears fell from her red eyes again as Mista pulled her friend into her arms, doing what she could to console the princess. "He only wanted -hic- me to love him -hic- like he loves me. He said -hic- that he wanted to -hic- spend the rest of his life -hic- with me." She swallowed, trying to stop hiccupping.  
  
Mista said nothing, but rocked her friend back and forth, trying to decipher whether she was talking about Eomer or Sarn. She gave up and turned back to comforting her friend, but Lothiriel would have none of it. "What am I to do?" she whispered. "Eomer will have nothing to do with me. I don't know what to do. Oh, Mista!" She sobbed into the other woman's shoulder.  
  
"Lothiriel, I don't know what you should do. But I will tell you what I am going to do. I am going to speak with your brother. He will know what to do. Meanwhile, I want you to go to your room and rest. You will be able to think more clearly after you have cleaned yourself up."  
  
Lothiriel laughed slightly. "I must look a fright."  
  
Mista smiled a little. "Yes. Believe me, you'll feel better after a hot bath." The two friends stood and walked toward the princess's room. Mista saw her in and immediately headed back to the gardens where Erchirion was waiting. "You heard?" she asked.  
  
"Aye. The bastard."  
  
Mista smirked. "Which one?"  
  
"Both of them." Erchirion crossed his arms. "Sarn for not saying anything to her sooner, and Eomer for not listening to her."  
  
Mista sat beside him. "So what do we do now?" she asked.  
  
He shrugged. "What can we do but wait until Lothiriel is ready to take action?"  
  
"And what sort of action would you have her take?" Mista asked with a smile.  
  
"I don't know." He sighed. "Should I go speak with her?"  
  
Mista shook her head. "She will speak again when she is ready. Give her time to rest. That was a hard blow he dealt her, deserved or not."  
  
  
  
Lothiriel slept. She had taken a hot bath, as Mista had ordered, but it had given her no peace. So, she had dried herself off, slipped into a light gown, and crawled in bed. She had not realized how much her row with Eomer had exhausted her. The bed was so comforting and warm, like a breeze off the ocean. She sighed and slipped into quiet bliss, free from the anger of the morning, if only for a little while.  
  
  
  
Meanwhile, Eomer was fuming still. He galloped across the lowlands between Dol Amroth and the White Mountains, riding as far away from the city by the sea as he possibly could in one day. He rode through the night, stopping only when the sun began to rise in the east. He rubbed down Firefoot, watered him, and then prepared his own meal. Eomer sat against a tree by the road, eating dry bread and cheese, washing it down with water from a spring. His temper had mellowed some, but not enough to cause him to return to Dol Amroth. He finished his food and re-mounted Firefoot, making his way to the pass between Rohan and Gondor. Four days of riding, and he would be in Edoras. Eomer smiled at the thought of home.  
  
  
  
"She refuses to come out of her room," Erchirion told Mista. "She says she wants nothing to do with anyone." He sighed and flopped onto a couch in the salon. "I told her we could go after Eomer, straighten things out, but she is adamant. She says he won't listen."  
  
"She's probably right," Mista said. "Eowyn once told me that Eomer was gentle most of the time, but when he gets angry, he is angry for days, sometimes weeks. You should have seen him when he learned that Lothiriel had stolen his horse in Rivendell. The Elves thought it was hilarious. Eomer didn't take it so well." She smiled. "It was easy to see they were meant for each other from the start."  
  
"Aye. I just hope they come to their senses soon. If we could get Lothiriel on the road, I suspect we could convince Eomer to hear her out. As it is, neither seems to be interested in listening to reason."  
  
"We will just have to wait," Mista replied. "They will come around in their own time. I hope." 


	25. All Quiet in the Halls of Meduseld

A/N: i have decided to skip ahead a few days. why? well, first of all, i'm too lazy to write every detail of eomer's ride from dol amroth to edoras. and second of all, i'm also too lazy to write every detail of lothiriel's wallowing in misery. sorry if you were looking forward to reading all that. so, without much further ado, i bring you first to the gardens of dol amroth where we find our favorite princess and then to the halls of meduseld where we find our favorite imbecile--er, i mean, king.  
  
::disclaimer:: i own nothing except their thoughts. i promise i'm making no money off of it. not even a penny (haha, get it? a penny for your thoughts...heh. guess not).  
  
  
  
Chapter XXIV  
  
June, T.A. 3021  
  
After several days, Lothiriel finally emerged from her room and went to the gardens. Erchirion was the first to see her. "Lothiriel, you look like the pits of Mordor," he said, noting her red eyes and disheveled hair.  
  
"I feel like it, too," she said. "Tell me, what day is it?"  
  
"The third."  
  
"I suppose he's not coming back, then." She sighed and flopped onto a bench. Erchirion sat down beside her. "Tomorrow is the festival. Erchirion, I don't want to be here for it. Do you think Papa would let us go to the cove in Dor-en-Ernil? I haven't been there since before I left for Rivendell."  
  
"I don't see why not. In fact, if you'll go get ready, I'll speak with him right now. We can leave before nightfall." He stood to go. "Should we take anyone else along?" he asked, turning back to her.  
  
Lothiriel shook her head. "Just the two of us. Like old times." After a moment, she stood and returned to her rooms. She quickly packed her tunics and leggings, along with an oil-skin set of swimming garments. As an afterthought, she tucked the swan dagger into her pack. She half-ran to the kitchens where she got salted meat, cheese, and bread enough for a few days. She threw this into her bag as well, and then headed to the stables, where Erchirion was waiting.  
  
"Are you all set?" he asked.  
  
"Of course," she replied, swinging up onto Telan. Together, they set out across the plain between the city and the mountains.  
  
  
  
Eomer sat on the throne, one leg dangling over the arm. He'd been in Edoras for less than two days, and already he wished he could go somewhere, anywhere, else. He could not stand it. Everything reminded him of Lothiriel. He looked out at the great hall, remembering the days they had spent together there. It was supposed to be their wedding night--their first night together. He should be lying with his new wife, learning everything about her. But no, she had betrayed his love.  
  
These thoughts fueled his anger and agitation. At last, he heaved a great sigh and went back to his rooms. He pulled clothes out of his chests and threw them in a sack. He went quietly to the kitchens, though he had no reason to be silent: the halls of Meduseld were empty of all souls except himself. There, he raided the pantry for bread and cheese and wineskins. Satisfied that he had enough food for the journey, he slipped out to the stables. He saddled his horse, strapping the bag of food and clothing to the side. He walked Firefoot to the gates, which the guards opened when they saw it was their ruler. Once outside the city, he mounted and rode for the Eastfold and the Anduin.  
  
  
  
They reached the cove the next afternoon. Vines had grown over the path down into the valley, so Lothiriel and Erchirion had to hack their way through. "Has no one been here since I left?" asked Lothiriel.  
  
"Mista and I came some when you first left, but it wasn't the same without you," he said.  
  
Lothiriel raised her eyebrows. "I'm sure it wasn't." Erchirion turned red, and she knew she'd managed to corner him. She laughed. "So are you two ever getting married?"  
  
Erchirion hacked away at a branch for several minutes before answering. "We decided that we'll wait until after you are settled in Rohan." Immediately, he knew he'd said the wrong thing because Lothiriel stopped slicing vines.  
  
"You're not getting married, then?" she said, trying to be humorous.  
  
"Lothiriel, look," Erchirion said, sitting down next to her, "I didn't mean...I mean to say, well, he'll come back, I promise."  
  
She looked at him, tears in her eyes. "How can you be so sure? You did not see him. I have never seen him so angry, and I traveled with him for months. I provoked him as much as I possibly could for a while, but he never grew so angry."  
  
"See? That's my point," he replied. "If he was that angry, that means he really loves you. Would he have done anything if he didn't?" Lothiriel thought back again to Bree. He had admitted that he would not have come after her if she hadn't taken Firefoot with her.  
  
"I suppose not," she sniffled. "But he had no right to be so angry. I am the one that should be angry with him. He never gave me a chance to explain myself."  
  
"No, he didn't, did he?" Erchirion's blood was beginning to boil at the thought of his little sister being treated so horribly.  
  
"Ah well. I don't want to dwell on it right now. We came here to forget it for awhile. And I'd like to go swimming," she added.  
  
"Well then, I guess we should finish clearing the path." Erchirion stood and helped Lothiriel up. Silently, they went back to work.  
  
  
  
Four days later, Eomer arrived in Osgiliath. He handed his horse to the first stable boy he saw. He strode into Faramir and Eowyn's palace, throwing the doors to the great hall wide open.  
  
The couple was seated on a short dais. "Eomer?" Faramir asked. "Only four days into marriage and you've already left your bride? I knew you were disappointed we could not come to the wedding, but I did not realize it would upset you that much."  
  
"There wasn't one." Eomer sighed. "We--I broke it off."  
  
"Why?" asked Faramir. Eowyn just looked astounded (and pregnant ::snicker::).  
  
"Unresolved issues." Eomer shrugged, trying to look nonchalant.  
  
Eowyn finally found her voice. "Eomer," she said tentatively, "you didn't try to, um, take advantage of her, did you?"  
  
Eomer blinked at his sister. "No, nothing like that." There was an audible sigh of relief from the two people sitting on the dais. Eomer continued. "More like her taking advantage of me."  
  
"What do you mean?" thundered Faramir. "Lothiriel would never take advantage of anyone--least of all anyone she loves."  
  
"Well that's nice to know," snapped Eomer. "Why don't you tell it to Shipmaster Sarn?"  
  
"Eomer? What happened?" Eowyn stepped off the dais and went to her brother. Faramir decided it would be a good time to slip out a side door and give the siblings a chance to talk alone.  
  
Eomer slumped into a chair. "T-ten days ago, I guess it was--Eru, it feels like an age and a day ago- -we were in Dol Amroth, and...and I told her I loved her." He paused, his head in his hands.  
  
"And?" she asked, prompting him to continue.  
  
"And the same afternoon, I saw her kissing another man. Not just any other man, but Sarn, an 'old friend.' Can you believe it, Eowyn? One week before our wedding, and she is kissing another man! If ever I see that tronking orc again, I'll wring his neck!" He trailed off into a string of Rohirric curses that would stun even the least-religious person among the Free Peoples.  
  
"But what did you do, Eomer? Why are you here?" Although his cursing had startled her, Eowyn was not about to be deterred from the story.  
  
"I broke off the marriage and went home, where I was restless. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't do anything without dreaming, thinking, seeing her! She haunted my very existence, Eowyn. So I did the only reasonable thing I could think of: I came to you. And your husband--her cousin." Eomer glared at the door Faramir had exited through (Faramir, who was listening to the conversation through the door, was very grateful that the door was made of solid oak--and that Eomer's dark glare didn't literally shoot daggers).  
  
"Did you let Lothiriel tell you what happened?" Eowyn asked.  
  
"No. Eowyn, I saw what I saw. She kissed the man twice. What else could it mean?"  
  
Eowyn looked at her brother. He seemed ready to break something, so she chose her words carefully in order to save the furniture. "Eomer," she said quietly, "you need to go back. Go back, but be reasonable. Give Lothiriel a chance to explain herself. She owes you that much at least."  
  
"I daresay she does," he muttered.  
  
  
  
A/N (again): sorry it jumps between the two so much, but i wanted to keep the timeline intact.  



	26. Hot Heads and Cold Hearts

A/N: since there seemed to be some confusion as to why eowyn and faramir are in osgiliath, i thought i'd check my maps, and unless i looked at it wrong, ithilien isn't a city, it's the strip of land between the anduin and the mountains of shadow. osgiliath is located in ithilien, therefore, it would make sense for eowyn and faramir to be there.  
  
arwen elf, i hope you like how i saved face where the nobility is concerned...it makes an interesting custom, even if it's not all that plausible.  
  
btw, i think sarn has quietly moved away to dale or somewhere...i don't think he'll be back any time soon, but you never know......  
  
::disclaimer:: i own EVERYTHING!!! MWA-HAHAHA!!! heh. that's a lie. i really own nothing except the people who aren't mentioned in the books (can't say in the movie, cuz that'd be a lie, too).  
  
  
  
Chapter XXV  
  
June, T.A. 3021  
  
After Eomer was taken to a guest room, Eowyn went to the door Faramir had exited through. "You can come back, now," she said, opening the door.  
  
"Where is he?" asked Faramir, glancing around.  
  
"I sent him to bed," Eowyn replied, a grim smile on her face. "I think he's exhausted himself trying to stay angry at your cousin and trying not to admit that he still loves her, no matter what he saw." She put her arm around Faramir. "Do you think he was telling the truth of what happened?"  
  
He shrugged. "It is quite possible that he saw them kiss twice, though if it was in the middle of the market, I highly doubt it was as ignoble as he claims. In Dol Amroth, kissing can mean many things: first and foremost, it is a sign of affection, but it can also be used as a greeting and in some cases, a way of sealing a blessing. I would guess that Lothiriel and Master Sarn were exchanging either greetings or blessings or both, otherwise we would have heard of the incident sooner."  
  
"Should we tell Eomer, then?" she asked, looking up at her husband. "Or do we send him on his way?"  
  
"I say we send him back to Dol Amroth. I doubt he'll believe it until he hears it from Lothiriel herself." He sighed, rubbing Eowyn's back. "I shall send a message to my uncle to let him know that Eomer returns."  
  
  
  
As Lothiriel headed down the narrow path from the cabin to the creek, Erchirion began to split logs. It had been too long since anyone had been to the cove, and the hunting cabin was in much need of repairs. He set to work, whistling a sea chanty as he did so, though his mood was not really so cheerful. It bothered him that Eomer had not let his sister say her piece before leaving her; he had not given her a chance to explain the blessing. But the real question was: would Eomer ever give her another chance? Would he return to Dol Amroth? Or would Lothiriel have to make an effort to track him down? Erchirion despaired if this was the case; he doubted that Lothiriel would do such. She seemed so placid, so complacent. It was almost as if she no longer cared. Erchirion threw down the hatchet he'd been using. If Lothiriel no longer cared, he would find a way to make her care again. He could not stand seeing his sister waste away.  
  
  
  
"He's coming back," Mista said as she read the message from Faramir. It had arrived on the leg of a messenger dove that morning. "Eowyn and Faramir are sending him off today."  
  
"What should we do?" asked Elphir.  
  
"What should we do?" repeated Imrahil. "We should do nothing. It's Lothiriel who has to handle this, not us."  
  
"Yes, but should we send her a message? Let her prepare herself for the encounter?"  
  
Mista could not help but laugh at this. "Elphir, you make it sound as if she is going to battle against a company of orcs. I promise you, Lord Eomer is not so dangerous."  
  
"Are you sure of that?" he muttered in reply.  
  
"Yes," she answered, rolling her eyes. She turned to the Prince. "Lord Imrahil, might I suggest that we send a message to Erchirion by hawk? I fear that if we alert Lothiriel, she will refuse to do anything except, perhaps, run away from him again."  
  
Amrothos laughed slightly at this. "But, Mista, where would she run to? If she went to Minas Tirith, she would meet him on the road. And she cannot very well go to Rohan, for she would most certainly encounter him there at some point."  
  
"Amrothos, you have forgotten your sister's ways," said Imrahil. "Do you not remember when she tried to escape going to Rivendell by sailing to the lost island of Numenor despite the fact that she knew it no longer existed? And with the forming alliance between Gondor and Harad, she could easily gain passage on a ship set for Umbar. I believe Mista is right. We must tell Erchirion, but not Lothiriel."  
  
  
  
Lothiriel wandered down the path, humming along to the song Erchirion had been whistling. "Oh the times are hard and the wages low/ Milady, where you bound to?/ Minas Tirith is my home/ Across the Western Ocean." The chorus drifted across the wind as the siblings sang together, one on the roof of the cabin, the other headed to the springs.  
  
Lothiriel was at peace with herself. She was not happy, necessarily, she mused as she sank into the water, shivering slightly at the cool temperature, but she was at peace. She would probably never find happiness like that which she had known for those short weeks in Rohan, but she could live with that. And live she would. She would return to Dol Amroth in a few days and become--become what? A healer? A teacher? Her possibilities were endless. Those ten years in Rivendell had done some good after all.  
  
She sighed and leaned back in the pool, remembering the day her father had presented her with the news that she would be leaving for the Elf-haven.  
  
flashback  
  
Lothiriel was sixteen, just old enough to court. Her father and Faramir of all people had presented the idea to her. "It will be the safest place for you, Lothiriel," they said. "You won't have to worry about the corsairs attacking and carrying you off."  
  
"But I don't want to leave you here," she argued. "Surely Amrothos and Erchirion and Elphir would run a greater risk staying here than I. Why do you not send them away as well?" They replied that her brothers were needed to fight. "Then I will fight beside them," she answered. "I can wield a glaive just as well as Amrothos. You both know that."  
  
At last, Faramir convinced her to give in by saying, "Lothiriel, think of it, you will be able to learn from the Elves! Who else in all of Gondor can say that they have lived among the fairest folk in all of Arda? And when you return, you shall tell me of all your doings. Will you go then, to Rivendell?" Lothiriel finally accepted this proposal, but only so that Faramir would have a first-hand account of the Elves that he adored.  
  
end flashback  
  
But Lothiriel had not seen Faramir yet, though she had returned from Rivendell. She considered going to Erchirion and asking to go to Ithilien to visit their cousin, but then she remembered that Eomer's sister was his wife. At this thought, Lothiriel stiffened slightly. She suspected Faramir and Eowyn knew that the betrothal was broken, because they had been planning on visiting Dol Amroth a week after the wedding. Indeed, the entirety of the court was going to come to wish the couple success in their marriage. It was one of those strange customs that Lothiriel had never understood; why wouldn't the nobility from other cities come until after the wedding had taken place? Perhaps it was so the bride and groom could have a little privacy before all the well-wishers came to call, she thought. Or perhaps it was in case the wedding was broken off. That way, there wouldn't be a house full of guests anticipating a wedding feast, only to receive a cursory thank-you and farewell. She decided it was more likely the latter, but she would ask Erchirion to see if he knew.  
  
Suddenly, she realized that Erchirion was no longer singing. This perplexed her. Had he gone hunting or fishing and forgot to tell her? Perplexed, Lothiriel pulled herself out of the pool and wrapped a towel around her waist. She gathered up her over-dress and shoes and made her way back down the path to the cabin where she found her brother sitting on top of the roof with a hawk upon his shoulder and a message in his hand. "Who writes?" she called up to him.  
  
Erchirion startled slightly, sending the bird off into a tree. "It's Mista," he answered. "She says that everyone is well, and will we please return soon because father has a surprise for us."  
  
Lothiriel sniffed at that. "Will you write back to her and say I'm not interested in any of father's 'surprises'? If it's really that important, they can send the surprise here."  
  
"I will do that as soon as I finish the roof. I'm nearly done, and it seems I chose the right project to begin with. Look at that cloud!" Lothiriel looked to the dark storm cloud that was beginning to cover the sun. "It's going to storm tonight!" Had Lothiriel been paying closer attention to her brother's voice, she would have realized that Erchirion already had the beginnings of mischief in his head.  
  
  
  
A/N (again): sorry this took so long to update. i had a bit of a mental block. not a ::whole:: lot in the way of plot development, but i thought it'd be a good time to make some relationship ties. also, really quickly, please answer this poll in your review!  
  
1. do you like my characterizations of everyone? why or why not?  
  
2. who's your favorite out of my canon characters? non-canon?  
  
3. i have several companion stories in my head. which would you rather see first: lothiriel pre- rivendell (the flashback was a teaser for this); harrana and riordan's story; or eomer and lothiriel's children (i had the first chapter posted, but i deleted it due to major blockage and a crappy plot)?  
  
4. would you rather have one of the above first or another eomer/lothiriel fic that has nothing to do with the other stories (it's slightly AU)?  
  
thankies muchly for answering my questions! 


	27. What Makes Living Worthwhile

A/N: so far, it looks like you guys want to know about their children. unfortunately, my muse for "daughter of the wind" has gone with the wind (hehe...get it?). so, unless nawat revives, i think i shall be writing the eomer/lothiriel story next (because erulehton [the muse for that story] is alive and kicking). and alasse, i don't think i'm going to be writing a mista/erchirion story...really, lothiriel's already told it. sorry to disappoint you!  
  
btw, charlotte, i changed that sentence about numenor, so it should make a little more sense now.  
  
::disclaimer:: if i owned this, i would have enough fodder to write a four-volume series. since i don't own it, that won't be happening any time soon.  
  
  
  
Chapter XXVI  
  
June, T.A. 3021  
  
It seemed as though the entire household of Imrahil was standing over Mista's shoulder to read Erchirion's message. "When Lothiriel's surprise arrives," she read aloud, "keep it in the city until you can send word to me. Once you have done so, feel free to bring it to Dor-en-Ernil. Don't worry, she suspects nothing." Mista turned to Imrahil and grinned. "How many days does it take to get from Ithilien to Dol Amroth?"  
  
"Five days at least. It depends on how fast one rides."  
  
"He'll be here in three days, then," said Amrothos. "Faramir said he would leave two days ago."  
  
"Good. We'll be ready for him."  
  
  
  
Eomer had been riding hard for two days. He had left Firefoot in Ithilien, where Eowyn promised to take care of the faithful horse. Instead, he rode military horses, trading steeds at military outposts and small villages along the road. He did not know precisely why he was riding so fast; there really was no reason. His only thought was to reach Dol Amroth. He had made a mistake, and he knew it. But would Lothiriel accept him? He had given her no reason to love him, not in Rivendell, nor in Bree, nor even really in Rohan. All he had done was mock her, anger her, frighten her, even kidnap her, and then belittle her as though a common whore. She could spit upon him, and no one would say a thing. Lord Imrahil would probably never let them marry, even if he offered every horse in his kingdom for her. And truly, Eomer could not blame him if he did so. Such were the thoughts of the young man as he journeyed across the land of Gondor.  
  
And so the king of Rohan rode on the second day out from Ithilien, fast and hard, and that night he passed the mountains of Dor-en-Ernil. As the sun rose in the east, he saw the Sapphire City of Dol Amroth, its white-blue towers glowing with the reflection of the bright dawn. He pulled his horse to a stop, and nearly collapsing from little food and less sleep, slid off the beast and fell into blissful slumber.  
  
  
  
In the seven days that they had been in Dor-en-Ernil, Lothiriel and Erchirion had managed to fix the leaky roof, re-sand the floor, re-stock the pantry (to an extent), and clean the dust from the hunting cabin. It had been quite a task, but the two had nearly finished conquering it. Erchirion was awaiting the message from Mista, but tried not to allow Lothiriel to see his anticipation. He did not succeed.  
  
"Who are you waiting for, Erchirion?" she asked as they walked down one of the many trails to a favorite swimming hole. "Is Mista going to join us? Is father sending the surprise after all?" She smiled as her brother struggled to find an answer.  
  
At last, he decided there was no harm in telling her part of the truth. "Mista is planning on coming, yes. I'm just waiting to hear from her, so I know when."  
  
"She'll be sending another hawk, then?" They had begun the hard trek up the ridge that led to the swimming hole.  
  
"Aye," Erchirion grunted as he grabbed a slender tree to keep from slipping down the narrow trail and knocking Lothiriel down. The siblings half-ran, half-slid down the steep slope, finally reaching the water's edge.  
  
"It's a bit high to go sliding," commented Lothiriel as she looked around, "though it looks just right for climbing."  
  
Erchirion grinned. "I bet I can make it up the Ladder before you do."  
  
She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Is that so?" In response, Erchirion pulled off his tunic and dove into the water.  
  
  
  
When Eomer awoke, the sun was high overhead. The king sat up and looked around. He was in a field of summer flowers, daisies and poppies dotting the rolling hills that melted into the flat land surrounding Dol Amroth in the distance. The horse he had been riding stood nearby, chomping lazily on the green grass at the edge of a small stream flowing from the mountains. Eomer stood and walked over to the stream to wash and drink before riding on to the city.  
  
The journey across the plains between the foothills of Dor-en-Ernil and Dol Amroth was surprisingly hard. Eomer was still exhausted, though he had slept for nearly half the day. The horse, too, seemed to be running out of energy, and would have slowed its pace had Eomer not spurred it on. He tried to ignore the curious eyes from the farmers working the fields as he rode past. No doubt they wondered what brought him back after the wedding had been broken.  
  
As he entered the city, Eomer kicked his heels into the horse's flanks, a new burst of energy suddenly filling him. He would soon be reunited with Lothiriel! She was only minutes away. These thoughts sped him onward to the palace gates and into the Hall of the Swan itself. There, his hopes were dashed. Lothiriel was gone.  
  
  
  
Laughter filled the canyon as Lothiriel and Erchirion played. Neither had had a chance to be so completely unrestricted since long before the War. "Erchirion," Lothiriel gasped as she lay upon the warm boulder that jutted into the water, "this is the life. I wish we could come here more often."  
  
"As do I, little sister," he replied, climbing onto the rock to sit next to her. "And I know how we can manage it."  
  
"How's that?"  
  
"Easy. We bring Balaneth and Kedar and--when the child is old enough--Amrothos's little one." He grinned. "Lothiriel, we're luckier than our brothers. We are able to indulge the children and then return them to their parents once they have been thoroughly corrupted."  
  
Lothiriel laughed. "Elphir would have our hides."  
  
"Yes, but it'd be worth it to watch him chase miscreant children all over the palace and through the secret passages, wouldn't it?"  
  
"Somehow I get the distinct impression that you've already indulged the children."  
  
"Whatever gave you that idea, my dear sister?"  
  
  
  
"Where?" was all Eomer managed to say to Imrahil before collapsing into a chair.  
  
"Dor-en-Ernil," Mista said, coming from behind him. "She and Erchirion went to the hunting cabin in the mountains. They've been gone for a week." She paused as if considering her next words. "I could take you there, if you like."  
  
He looked up at her. "Please do."  
  
"Very well," she said slowly, seemingly hesitant, "but first you must rest. You have exhausted both yourself and your horse. I will have the cooks prepare you a meal while you refresh yourself. The stablehands will care for your steed. Now go and rest. We will leave in the morning."  
  
"I thank you," he whispered, nodding to both Mista and Imrahil as he walked slowly in the direction of his former guest rooms.  
  
Mista watched him go. As soon as he was out of earshot, she turned to Imrahil. "He's early," she sighed. "We must send a message to Erchirion."  
  
  
  
A hawk flew overhead as Lothiriel and Erchirion walked quickly back to the cabin. It had started raining again, which brought their excursion to the swimming hole to an early end. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the siblings dashed about, gathering up the tools they had left outside. Just before Lothiriel shut the door to the cabin, the hawk swooped inside, alighting on Erchirion's arm.  
  
"A note from Mista?" Lothiriel asked.  
  
"Aye," he replied, pulling the soggy paper off the bird's leg. He scanned the message, his brow furrowing as he tried to make out the words that had run together. "She's coming earlier than I expected," he said at last, looking up. "She's leaving in the morning and will arrive sometime the next day." 


	28. Thy Fate and Mine Are Seal'd

A/N: sorry this has taken so long. our computer crashed on sunday and the word processor wasn't re-installed until yesterday evening. unfortunately, the spellcheck isn't working, so if there are any spelling mistakes, i apologize, and i'd appreciate it if someone could point them out so i can fix them. thankies.

disclaimer all the oc's are mine, as are the personalities of the others.

Chapter XXVII

June, T.A. 3021

"Lothiriel," Erchirion called to his sister who was swimming in the creek, "we have guests."

She turned and saw him on the bridge. Eomer. A flood of emotions swept through her: joy, anger, confusion, sadness, relief. She blinked a couple times, trying unsuccessfully to put together a complete thought. At last, she managed to create a sentence. "What are you doing here?" she whispered.

They looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Lothiriel looked away.

"You came back," she said. "Why?" She looked up at him. Erchirion, meanwhile, took this as a dismissal and discreetly excused himself.

Eomer shrugged. "I had to. It was torturing me."

Lothiriel hung her head. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," she said quietly.

"No." They lapsed into silence again. "Mista told me what you told her." Eomer began to walk down to the sandy bank. "I'm sorry. I should have let you talk." He now stood on the sand by the bridge; Lothiriel watched him, the water lapping at her thighs.

"I should have told you. About Sarn, I mean. We grew up together, you know. It was always him and me and Mista and Faramir and Erchirion. We went on grand adventures together, hunting and fishing and play-fighting. We tried to sail to the Undying Lands, though we always returned for supper. We ran amok at the wharfs, terrorizing the customers at Saberman's Pub, listening to their stories. It was a good life." Tears filled her voice as she walked through the water to the shore, and Eomer realized that this was the first real account of Lothiriel's childhood he'd ever heard.

"But then it all changed. Faramir returned to Minas Tirith to become captain of the guard; Sarn joined the navy and became a sailor; Mista and Erchirion fell in love; and I was sent to Rivendell where I would wait ten years to be returned to the home I love. At first, it was an adventure, like in my younger years, but before long it became nothing more than a gilded prison of silk and marble. I spent ten long years of my life there, wishing and waiting for someone to come for me."

She smiled sadly. "And then you came. I must admit that I hated you for quite some time. Or maybe not so much you, but the idea that you represented. You were not returning me to my home; you were merely transporting me from one gilded prison to another. And so I ran away. Those few weeks were the best of my life. I have never had so much freedom as Lothiriel as I had as Alquayendi. I doubt I shall ever have such freedom ever again. But then you returned, and swept me off my feet--" here, she laughed "--though I did not appreciate it until later. As we traveled the long road between Bree and Edoras, I fell in love. At least, I think that's when it happened. I did not know for sure that I was in love until after our duel. And then we returned home, to Dol Amroth, where things that should not have taken place did, and where things that should have happened did not." She paused, and then continued. "I have no regrets, though. I love you, Eomer. I love you more than anyone else in all of Arda. I know I have no right to your love, so I will not ask it of you. I only ask, no beg, your forgiveness. I have given you nothing but grief since we first met. Perhaps it would be best if I live my life alone." And with that, she walked away.

Eomer watched her go, dumbfounded by the revelation of Lothiriel's life. At last, his emotions managed to creep up on him, sadness and regret, along with a third emotion that he could not quite place. It overwhelmed all other feelings, and slowly, the horse-lord realized it was love. True love, like in the old tales the Elves told in Rivendell. He was deeply, madly in love with her. She returned his love, though he did not deserve it by any means. He wanted--needed--to tell her that he loved her. He turned, but she was gone. He scanned the banks for her. She was almost to the stables. He began to run toward her. "Lothiriel!" he called.

She stopped. Eomer caught up with her. He put a hand on her shoulder. She turned slowly. "Lady Lothiriel," he said, taking her head in his hands, "if you choose to live your life as a lonely maiden of Dol Amroth, I will die a lonely lord of Rohan. Would you be queen for a lonely king?"

"A queen for a king?" echoed Lothiriel. "Nay." Pain filled Eomer's hazel eyes. She smiled and brushed a lock of hair from his face. "I would rather be a wife for a husband."

Eomer smiled. "I think that can be arranged." He leaned toward her and kissed her lightly, pulling back after a moment. "Can you forgive me, my love?" he whispered.

"For what?"

"For despairing. I thought I'd lost you."

"Lost me?" she asked. "That is strange, for I believed you to be the one I had lost."

"But can you forgive me?" he persisted.

Lothiriel put her arms around his neck and pulled him into a second, longer, kiss.

The four companions returned to Dol Amroth with far lighter hearts than they had left. The wedding was set for Midsummer, and all of the royal houses of the Free Peoples would be in attendance. The wedding would take place in Dol Amroth, but it would be done in traditional Rohirric style.

Never before had the City by the Sea been host to such a grand event. Gifts and guests for the King and Queen of Rohan came from all across the land: the Hobbits of the Shire sent pipeweed and ale with their representatives, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took; the Elves of Rivendell sent silk and thread for the queen; of course, the King and Queen of Gondor brought gifts as well; and the Lady Harrana presented the young rulers with gold and copper from the land of Harad. But perhaps the finest gifts given that day were those exchanged between the bride and groom. She presented her lord with a silver knife, the hilt engraved with a swan. Likewise, he presented his lady with a necklace of gold, the pendant engraved with a horse.

And after the feasting had died down, the lady of the swan and the lord of the horse retired to their rooms to better know one another.

fin


End file.
